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’ He heard Roding snort, and suppressed a grin as he bowed, taking the trouble to salute Madame’s hand and cast her a provocative look as he did so. She looked up, and recognized Mr. ’ She grimaced. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. 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. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. “Let me help you,” he begged. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. I suppose the phrase—the word—originally meant a man who searched for food on the beach. Wood was once a favourite of yours. I had a perfect shoal of callers. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you.
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