As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. 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. If it hadn’t been for Professor Russell standing up for him, they say he would have had to leave. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. White men never went abroad without helmets.
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