You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland. ‘Laisse-moi. I hope that some day he'll understand how much he owes you. Sir John stood upon the threshold. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. 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. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself.
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