Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty,—a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman's existence,—whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty,—a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. She wrote it down. " "So am I. But she was not sure just how to reach it. In the struggle her cap fell off. By George, I forgot! McClintock said there was a typewriter in the office and that I could have it. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. . ’ Hilary eyed him. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. We’ll have some buttered toast. " "Don't touch it, Winny!" screamed Mrs. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia.
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