She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. 1. “I’ve never been prone to them. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. 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.
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