“Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. I completed it according to the directions, you see, and it was a beautiful machine, a triangle sort of, with a steering column I built out of an old wheelbarrow and a hubcap. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. I have never told you so, or Sydney, but I can sing—rather well. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. ’ She pronounced it with a French inflexion, but Gerald understood her to mean the English name he knew. 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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