"Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland," returned Wild; "and you shall hear. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. Still, one has to be reasonable. 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 turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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