He wanted her named Mary. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. . She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again. 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. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her. The others hurried to the window. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. "I don't know," she answered vaguely.
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