She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. 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 had been many years in this country before his assassination took place. You want to do everything with your mind. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned.
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