silk-hung

As I talked, she sat upright on her chair in the silk-hung salon, her jolly, handsome face serious for once, and Spring was mum beside me on the couch, holding his hat on his knees, prim as a banker, although I could feel the crouched force in him.

Isabelle Estelle Bruno 2010

The healer led the way to the silk-hung bedchamber and closed the door behind them.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

Leyladin escorted Cerryl back through the silk-hung sitting room and front hall to the foyer.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

He followed her through the silk-hung entry hall, through the orange-scented air of the long sitting room past the portrait of Leyladin's mother, and back into the red oak paneled study where Cerryl had first met Leyladin's father.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

Her dark green eyes danced, brighter than any lamp, as she reached for his hand to lead him to a silk-hung bedchamber-one he had but seen in a glass.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

The mists cleared from the glass, and, almost as if she had been waiting, the red-golden-haired healer smiled from where she sat in a green dressing gown at the writing table in her silk-hung room.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

The blonde walked through the foyer into the silk-hung entry hall and then through another door.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

CLXXI Cerryl glanced around the lamp-lit and silk-hung bedchamber, so similar to the first view of Leyladin's chamber through his glass and yet so different in ways he could not describe but only feel.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

She helped him inside through the foyer and the front hall, leaving drippings of mud and blood, and laid him out on the settee in the front room to the left of the foyer-the pale blue silk-hung room he'd never entered.

Colors of Chaos Modesitt, L. E. 1999

He did not wait for the servants to open the doors, but just pushed through into the entrance hall, and then into the great ballroom where a score of painters and upholsterers were finishing a long night's work during which they had transformed the ballroom into a silk-hung fantasy.

Sharpe's Waterloo Cornwell, Bernard, 1944- 1990