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 you, Mademoiselle Melusine, will support this claim. It pained Lucy to see Mike eating so sparely. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin.
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