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. Or had you not noticed?’ He sneered. She was mentally transported for an instant to the old castle in Herculis. " "Is this true, Sir?" cried Mrs. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. Moments are ages now. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald.
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