He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. 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. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. ‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful papers,’ Gerald went on. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. I don't threaten idly, as you know. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away.
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