The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. 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. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs.
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