Come!” They went out together and he called a hansom. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. 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. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off.
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