Plote was sleeping or deaf. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. 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. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. As usual, Lucy traced over parts of her experiences in her confidences with Shari, skipping lightly over her own 10 story as a pebble would over a lake. Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke.
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