” Anna was silent. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. He knew she had been weeping. But most of all, I wanted to love. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. 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. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head.
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