I don't feel old, you see.

I feel as if I had many years' good work in me yet.

But there! That's the trouble with the mediocre men.

They are shelved before they are old.

I am one of them." He laughed as he spoke, and looked at his companion.
Sybil Linforth was now thirty-eight years old, but the fourteen years had not set upon her the marks of their passage as they had upon Dewes.
Indeed, she still retained a look of youth, and all the slenderness of her figure.
Dewes grumbled to her with a smile upon his face.
"I wonder how in the world you do it.