I didn’t ought to have sent for him. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you. “I don’t think you realize,” Ann Veronica began again, “that I am rather a defective human being. 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. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English.
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