“This is the slavery of the veiled life. Manning might go on now idealizing her as much as he liked. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. 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. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. I'll not forget your two mistresses, Jack. Ownership seemed only a reasonable return for the cares and expenses of a daughter’s upbringing. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort.
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