It is a precaution merely. . He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. 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. Then she went into the office.
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