“Did it seem like I was in pain to you?” She smirked. “How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded. 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 must get to the vestry. All at once she became aware of sounds outside. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. Do you know, I envy you. There was a little murmur of consternation from the waiting crowd, and the florid young woman showed signs of temper, to which Mr. I see now that you make a game with me indeed.
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