Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. You called her a wanton!" "Because I had every reason to believe she was one. 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 began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. He refused. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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