The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. Ruth came to him directly. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. Until the last few months. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. "I generally take a party. you walking home?\" 3 She paused, stunned. ” “You—you did what?” Anna exclaimed.
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