" "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. I want to give you time to think. Even Ah Cum had resumed his Oriental shell of reserve. Nothing at all. ‘Exactly like my father. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. ’ ‘Not dead, miss. They are often to be found dashing about secret passages in strange houses, armed to the teeth. 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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