She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. 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. ‘What Gerald wants with you has me beat. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. The man’s passion was infectious. “Come sit with me, beautiful. ” “And leave you here alone?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. Then for a time she sat very still.
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