] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. " The spinsters stared at her blankly. " "Two weeks in Hong-Kong," replied McClintock, "is more than enough. . " "Thought so. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. “It is not possible,” he exclaimed. Ed. 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. It is always on his person. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. “We parted— that night the best of friends. "Hold hard," cried he, addressing the waterman; "I'll give the gentleman a lift.
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