I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. 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.
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