"It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. 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. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. But I said I wouldn't drive a hard bargain with you, and I won't.
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