His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. 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. "One last embrace. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt.
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