"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. "To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. They thought that she was her own mother.
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