There was something familiar to me about this quiet woman, something I couldn’t quite place. Her hair had been dyed a light shade of red, a color that complimented her pretty green eyes. Slight wrinkles were the only aspect that really betrayed her forty-some years. Her figure was distinctly feminine, faintly maternal, and her black silk dress flowed elegantly over her soft curves. But I couldn’t think of where I might have seen her; I hadn’t been to Texas in a very long time.
Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov