’ He thought a wary look came into her face, but it was difficult to be sure. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. 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. It still failed in something. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s alert glance found his. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. Degree! degree! She smiled on a gallant of high degree. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute.
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