Lucilla shoved Roding out of the way so that she could take hold of Melusine’s hands again. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. \"His name is John Diedermayer. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. F. 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. Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known.
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