Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. 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. They always get back together. But there must be an Englishman who would like to marry her to get Remenham House. He hated himself a little for it. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. But to England we will go. ’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature.
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