‘Odd sort of a nun. Ramage demurred. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. And empty. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. 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. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked.
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