As for Viola... ...her suspicion began as small, as inconsequentialas the tickle in her...

As for Viola... ...her suspicion began as small, as inconsequential
as the tickle in her lungs. Viola had an inordinate love of dress,
and the very best taste in the world. A taste her husband would indulge. Innumerable yards
of lustrous silk and satin, of muslin, velvet and lace
from all over the world, and all manner of expense. Some as rare and rich as if they were
spun of threads ofjewels, all passed through her cunning hands, without a word of boast
coming from her lips