For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. “I shall have to go through the building. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. A queer nut. 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 donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set.
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