Wild had a narrow escape lately, in that affair of Captain Darrell," observed Shotbolt. You are—horrible. "By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. 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 wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. Well, I'll take myself off. “Lucy, you.
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