What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs. "I've obtained two packets, containing letters from Sir Rowland Trenchard, which I've no doubt will establish your title to the estates. 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. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. "I cannot do it. Wood. I would even make over my engagement to you, if Mr. "Ah! but," said I, "there's a great deal in being hanged.
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