She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. 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. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. He refused. She crushed the letter in her hand. ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. Certain reserves went down on both sides. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand.
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