‘I’ve never before made love at pistol point. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. 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. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. "Put it in your teeth and light it.
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