"A storm!" exclaimed the landlord. It’s these damned novels. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. 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. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. Wood by increased corpulence and decreased powers of vision,—by deeper wrinkles and higher shoulders, by scantier breath and a fuller habit. “Act three. CHAPTER IV.
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