When she confessed all this to her charge, telling the now grown up babe that there was no hope in the world of establishing any claim, she very soon discovered her mistake. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk.
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