Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. He'd never forgive you. 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. "This is strange," said Jack, under his breath.
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