” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. 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. “To tell you the truth, I am a little dull. “Dear husband,” she murmured. She was very pretty. He cocked an eyebrow. " Jack was about to comply; but not liking the man's manner, he walked on. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. " There was no danger in admitting this fact.
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