The touch of her hands was pleasurable. Wood, sharply. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. 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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