But a biddable girl. ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. “Forgive you, indeed. ” She played with her hair. “Mr. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. She thought of Capes. I am suspected of having shot the man. \" She sat down on a nearby bench. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. Humph. 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. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself.
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