Sheppard, again arresting his departure. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. 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. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. “Love should be enough, John, but it never is. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. I want to make my own selection. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. It was as if he could smell it on her.
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