“I remember it very well indeed. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. " "Because he said he was a Yale man?" "That might be it. Both these ladies possessed considerable personal attractions. "I did all for the best, as I'll explain. You cannot care for her. 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. .
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