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Updated: May 5, 2025
The chattering clock on her mantel warned her of the passing time and set her hurrying into her walking-gown, her hat, her gloves, as if the object of her errand would only wait for her a moment longer. When, for the second time, she opened the house door, she didn't hesitate. She descended into the white fog that covered all the city.
"Ah, here you are, Roger," exclaimed a fresh clear voice from behind the chairs. "I've been looking for you everywhere. We've seen everything Mr. Ellerton was most kind and I do so want to tell you my impressions." The new-comer was Lady Deane, a tall young woman, plainly dressed in a serviceable cloth walking-gown.
Into the newly decorated room, with its original Adams ceiling, its dead-white panelling and antique overmantel, shone the morning sun, weak and yellow as it always is in London in the spring-time. Lady Heyburn, dressed in a smart walking-gown of grey, pushed her fluffy fair hair from her brow, while upon her face was an expression which told of combined fear and anger. Her visitor was surprised.
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