A middle-aged woman clad in a navy blue suit-her face veiled-stood in the very last pew, nervously twisting a pair of gloves in her hands.

The robes were folded and piled neatly, leaving the women still voluminously clad, but with their heads and lower arms exposed.

The eldest of them turned to regard him: a fit-seeming woman clad in a familiar-looking cloak, her cowl thrown back to reveal her long-plaited blond hair.

A mannish woman clad in armor and with a strange brand upon her forehead, she is one of Diamond's magical servants.

A woman similarly clad, whose passionate features conveyed hints of love and hate.

And why were the men and the women in her cast identically clad in shirts, ties and skirts?

In tight metaconcert, the brain and the woman clad in diamonds sent out their farspoken summons.

A woman fully clad in thick denim and leaning against her patrol car with a shotgun?

A woman clad all in white, with a white cap over her hair, white rubber gloves, and a white sterile mask over her face stood beside a medicbot.

Several healthy women jogged by clad in your finest, sheer-clingy Lycra.