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. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. That is why Wall Street broke your father; he was honest. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently. He had already spoken his mind on the folly of allowing a clearly dangerous female to escape a second time. CHAPTER XI.
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