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. Manning,” she said, “for a time—Will you tell no one? Will you keep this—our secret? I’m doubtful—Will you please not even tell my aunt?” “As you will,” he said. CHAPTER I. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped.
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