She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. 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. Lucy followed. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically.
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