Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. Manning, with a sweep of the arm. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. “Go on,” he said. A minute pressure inwards showed him that it was not locked. He called a waiter. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. 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.
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