His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. 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. She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. “Upon my word,” he exclaimed, “this is most extraordinary.
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