Go back at once, please. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. They laughed and talked and stared about them. 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. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime.
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