She gloried in it: he needed her. He sat down. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. As if God would not continue to mock him so long as his brain held a human thought! God had given him a pearl without price, and he had misunderstood until this day. She began by being interested in his demonstrations and his biological theory, then she was attracted by his character, and then, in a manner, she fell in love with his mind. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent.
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