" "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily. 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. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards.
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