" "Devilish hard! I'm not allowed a chance," grumbled Austin, as he was left alone. 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. White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. "You forgot your lunch," she said. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone.
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