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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. E. " "You look pretty fit. Darrell, however, rose again instantly; and though mortally wounded, made a desperate effort to regain the boat. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Only promise me this.
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