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. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. There was a pleasant numbness in the bottle; that's why I went to it. Manning, in an earnest voice, and waved his hand to the alley of mauve and purple.
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