I saw the blood come as he rolled over. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. ‘It were that there major, miss. 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. Even that he sleeps, I must give to him my thanks, for he has been excessively brave for me. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night.
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