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. The major’s hand stilled. Ogilvy was full of a client’s trouble in that matter, a grave and even tragic trouble. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. " "A fugitive. "There's the exact expression I want. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets.
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