Apparently I’m not to exist yet. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. 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. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch.
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