The grandson's unlined young face had nothing to offer except this condescension; the grandfather's had other things to say.

It was a handsome, worldly old face, conscious of its importance, but persuasive rather than arrogant, and not without tokens of sufferings withstood.

The Major's short white hair was parted in the middle, like his grandson's, and in all he stood as briskly equipped to the fashion as exquisite young George.
Isabel, standing between her father and her son caused a vague amazement in the mind of the latter.

Her age, just under forty, was for George a thought of something as remote as the moons of Jupiter: he could not possibly have conceived such an age ever coming to be his own: five years was the limit of his thinking in time.

Five years ago he had been a child not yet fourteen; and those five years were an abyss.