I’m sorry. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. . A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. . ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. The swelling in his limbs had also subsided. 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. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more.
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