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. I came to see you on my own account. Then there was also the horse. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. ” “Perhaps I don’t.
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