” She gazed at him. Marvel. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. “We pretend bodies are ugly. 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. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. "Ruth?" he called. That’s all about it.
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