" "I can't exactly say, Sir Rowland. ” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. She made an abrupt personal appeal. 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. "Heaven has decreed it otherwise," replied the knight, dejectedly.
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