3. 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. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. "If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. She said that she dated him to be closer to me. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once.
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