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. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. When you send for me I shall come back.
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