” Lady Ferringhall sat with half closed eyes and clenched teeth. You cannot—shall not retreat. “Been sitting on the doorstep almost for two hours. But I shan't let him off thus. 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. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time.
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