Her father had determined on a new line. Mr. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. 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. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years.
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