"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. 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 shall be obliged to hang him to keep him company. Mr. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high.
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