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. Hollo rumbled in his throat. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. Good-bye, aunt. You have set out to do something which is neither God's way nor man's. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties. . Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. And when, at length, it was struck, he wanted energy to pursue his advantages. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty.
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