When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff. “You’re. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. 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. " Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. She walked back to the car. She has no proof—yet.
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