They seldom arrive on the beach. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. 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.
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