A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. 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. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. You will not have to wait long for the information. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. I know what I am doing better than you do. 48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. Jack's life hangs on your determination.
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