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. And as these things should always be treated as matters of business, I'll just draw up a memorandum of our arrangement. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. " "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her.
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