For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. I did not even know where to write and thank you. What happened? Did you turn me?” “Yes, my love. "So he may," rejoined Abraham, aloud, "so he may. . \" Lucy obliged her, walking back to the entryway and slipping off the loafers. 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. ’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last. They were silent for a time.
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