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. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. The manager tells me that you are an American. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. E. "That's tremendous!" he cried. She turned the television off. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks.
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