But it was not her look alone; she had on her cloak, as the night before, but with me (God bless her!) she found no need to clasp herself in its folds; and underneath she wore the very dress in which she had sung at our last concert, and been rescued in the gig.

It looked as though she had worn it ever since.

The roses were crushed and soiled, the tulle all torn, and tarnished some strings of beads that had been gold: a tatter of Chantilly lace hung by a thread: it is another of the relics that I have unearthed in the writing of this narrative.
"I thought men never noticed dresses ?" my love said suddenly, a pleased light in her eyes (I thought) in spite of all.

"Do you really remember it ?" "I remember every one of them," I said indignantly; and so I did.
"You will wonder why I wear it," said Eva, quickly.

"It was the first that came that terrible night.