Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. 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 had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you.
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