‘Exactement. ’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. He was all alone, like herself. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. V. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. 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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