“My name is certainly Pellissier,” she said, “but I am very sorry—I do not recognize you in the least. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. 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. The rest of his attire was nondescript.
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