‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. 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. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. “But your sister,” he said. "You must not remain here," he said. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. ’ The fury welled. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower.
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