” She played with her hair. But he was wide awake. To-morrow they will know the truth. " "Can't we break it off?" replied Mrs. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. 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. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. “How unkind!” she exclaimed.
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