Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. 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. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. "That is good. " "But that style isn't Oriental. Gladstone would have to a carelessly displayed interior on a dissecting-room table. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. I love. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. He must be more or less of an age with this man.
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