He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. 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.
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