He declined to come in. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. No one would ever know what happened to him. 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 is Jacques. You should have more. Yet, stay! There is one thing I wish you to do. " Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing.
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