She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. Even two Cabinet Ministers took to their heels, grinning insincerely. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. "So I did," retorted Mrs. Spurling, hastening to the rescue. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. 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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