You're in luck to-night, widow. 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. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. She was good to me for the two years I stayed with her, she had a nice apartment in Galveston. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast.
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