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. Dump and the village authorities, it was agreed to lock up the prisoner in the cage. "Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill.
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