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. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. " CHAPTER XV. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger.
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