The Storm VII. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. You will make him get his daughter, if you please. And Teddy declared himself ready to go to the ends of the earth for her, and carry her luggage all the way. The thought of beauty became an obsession. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. 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. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them.
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