But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. 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. She was powerless to move from her chair. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses.
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