“You asked me in to tea,” he protested. " The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. 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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