It is the age," thought Gabriella; and presently, when Cousin Jimmy and Cousin Pussy came in to welcome her, she repeated: "Yes, it is the age.

There is no escaping it." "Why, my dear child, you are looking splendidly," trilled Cousin Pussy, with her old delightful manner and her flattering vision so different from Florrie's.

She was still trim, plump, and rosy, though her hair was now snow white and her pretty face was covered with cheerful wrinkles.
"You're handsomer than you ever were in your life, and the dash of gray on your temples doesn't make you look, a day older--not a day.

Some people turn gray so very young.

I remember Cousin Becky Bollingbroke's hair was almost white by the time she was thirty-five.