" That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. “I will tell you when to stop. 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. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. Recollect that. Why should you wish to forget it? Unless it is that you did not enjoy it. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known.
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