But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. Ah, no, I have it wrong. “It’s as broad as life,” said Mr. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. 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. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him.
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