“You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. "No," replied Jonathan, moodily. “Tell her,” said Mr. 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. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. ” She looked down at the flowers, still in shock, and gently laid them over her arm like a Miss America candidate practicing a crowning ceremony at a pajama party.
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