But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. " "It matters not. 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. She is known everywhere within the radius of five hundred miles. “She has gone down into the country.
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