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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. “We shall try again later. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. “You stupid bitch. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. The lovers broke into passionate knowledge of themselves and each other, and then, a jarring intervention, came King Mark amidst the shouts of the sailormen, and stood beside them. “Want to see the computer?” He asked eagerly. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time.
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