Damn! I’ve splashed. I have it about me. I’m fine. Don’t try. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. "I'll tell you why," he said. . You are all the beauty in the world. 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. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. Do you expect me, I wonder. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered.
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