org. ” She paused. "Where are you going?" she asked. 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. She was poor. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. " "I shouldn't call her queer. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me.
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