She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. \" Lucy replied. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly.
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