Mr. I bored him. She's too pretty and unusual. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. ” Anna read, and her cheeks grew slowly scarlet. I knew where I would go next: Florence. 1 through 1. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. F. 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. To-night all London believes that he was your husband.
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