But she must not laugh. . Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. 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. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. "Is there anything wrong with it?" "Wrong? Why, you have been imposed upon somewhere. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse.
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