"You don't eat," continued Kneebone, addressing Jack, who had remained for some time thoughtful, and pre-occupied with his head upon his hand. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. And not a worthy tome in sight. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. She loved him. 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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