’ Hilary’s brows shot up. ’ Her breath tightened and she was obliged to control an inner ferocity. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. If it hadn’t been for Professor Russell standing up for him, they say he would have had to leave. 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. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him.
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