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. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. “What are you doing?” “Nothing. Living’s just material. "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. “If you say so, my pet.
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