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. “I was already aware of the fact. So, adroitly and patiently, he pulled Ruth apart; that is, he plucked forth a little secret here, another there, until he had quite a substantial array. ’ With an air of real interest, he asked, ‘I suppose you did not dig a tunnel or fly in by balloon?’ The lady gazed at him blankly. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. Put your arms around her and tell her you love her.
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