She drew it out with shaking fingers. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. But no more of that. That’s the fact of the matter. 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. He was tender with her as he had not been in years.
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