She held out her hand frankly. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. I didn’t know. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. ‘I did not think so. 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. Or I should have made love to you long ago.
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