“You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. ” “And the second?” “Make love to a single woman. And of course! She had a brilliant idea. 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. We felt like thieves. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him.
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