Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. “It’s my fault. \" He took his milk and cookies to bed. When things are at the worst, they'll mend. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. 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. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life. Jonathan aimed a blow at him, which, if it had taken place, must have instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding this, he sprang at the thief-taker, and grappled with him. Wood by increased corpulence and decreased powers of vision,—by deeper wrinkles and higher shoulders, by scantier breath and a fuller habit.
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