Lose no time. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire.
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