‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. 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. Phillips Oppenheim’s most intriguing stories. He was there concealed, waiting her return. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded.
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