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. ’ ‘But, Marthe, you do not imagine that I would have taken the veil like you, even if you have not told me. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. ’ ‘Have no fear.
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