What would it be without that safeguard?β Ogilvy pursued his own topic. β She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. He did it, he said, βto distract his mind. But what did he know beyond these facts? Nothing, clearly. 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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