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. Oh! Christ! de door's shut! It musht have schwung to during de schuffle!" "Shut!" exclaimed Wild. ‘He is not in England, you understand. ’ She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. " Half an hour later she laid aside the book. I might as well try to build a ladder to heaven.
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