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“Silly!” he remarked after a pause. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well. 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. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 01:17:08