Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. 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. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. And you know all about that shot. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. He'd never forgive you. A. “But I still think of my old foster brothers and sisters. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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