” Ennison had things to say, but he looked at her and held his tongue. The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. 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.
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