’ A derisive snort greeted this passage. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. 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. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own.
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