” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. You and the girl have made it soft for him, and I'm going to make it soft for him. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. 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. “You would appear to be trying to destroy a comradeship which has been very, very pleasant.
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