‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. "I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real. "He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. No fear o' that. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. Ramage came for her at her lodgings, and she met him graciously and kindly as a queen who knows she must needs give sorrow to a faithful liege. 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. Besides, he was a Yale man.
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