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. "So you shall, Sir," replied Austin, who at this moment recollected, with some uneasiness, the applications at the lodge-door during the night. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. They have rescued the child.
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