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. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. ‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. I felt I MUST do something anyhow, and up I came just as soon as I could to see you. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. “I don’t believe there is one.
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