But she did not bother her head very much about her relations with these sympathizers. 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. The beautiful gowns and the flashing bare shoulders and arms of the women had disturbed and distressed her. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home.
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