And her
fingers grew so numb that she made what she considered a disgraceful matter
of her attire.
Downstairs in the lobby another cheerful red fire burned in the grate. How
perfectly satisfying was an open fireplace! She thrust her numb hands
almost into the blaze, and simply shook with the tingling pain that slowly
warmed out of them. The lobby was deserted. A sign directed her to a dining
room in the basement, where of the ham and eggs and strong coffee she
managed to partake a little. Then she went upstairs into the lobby and out
into the street.
A cold, piercing air seemed to blow right through her. Walking to the near
corner, she paused to look around. Down the main street flowed a leisurely
stream of pedestrians, horses, cars, extending between two blocks of low
buildings. Across from where she stood lay a vacant lot, beyond which began
a line of neat, oddly constructed houses, evidently residences of the town.
And then lifting her gaze, instinctively drawn by something obstructing the
sky line, she was suddenly struck with surprise and delight.
"Oh! how perfectly splendid!" she burst out.
Two magnificent mountains loomed right over her, sloping up with majestic
sweep of green and black timber, to a ragged tree-fringed snow area that
swept up cleaner and whiter, at last to lift pure glistening peaks, noble
and sharp, and sunrise-flushed against the blue.
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