She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. 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. \"Awww, sounds like puppy love to me. " "I can get him aboard all right. But, go and see who it is, love. CHAPTER I. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course.
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