Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. ’ ‘Very true. 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. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date.
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