” “I think, Mr. 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. CHAPTER XVI. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake.
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