” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. 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. “Sir John is not at all that sort. I am ready to wait for you, to wait your pleasure, to give all my life to winning it.
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