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. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. He dropped the key on the counterpane. One of the reasons why I decline to talk is this: that boy's punishment will be enough. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. “I believe it is.
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