‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. 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. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. They mean everything that women can mean—except submission. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. " "Be pleased, then, in future not to let your surprise find vent in words," rejoined Jonathan, sternly. Treat me as an elder brother, if you like. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments.
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