Ed. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. 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. “Wow. Certainly he could not move now other than to announce the fact that he had found his man. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. “You are beautiful, Lucy.
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