The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations.
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