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. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. Drink the toast, Jack. Wood laughed louder than ever. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. One of these was a classification of women into women who are and women who are not hostile to men. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived.
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