Besides—there is Sir John. 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. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle.
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