” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. “I want to lay all my life at your feet. 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. DeSoto, seemed to notice her thoroughly. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. “Looks like old times here, I see.
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