A curious feeling of age and grayness had suddenly come over him--a hint of fatigue, of consciousness that much of life lay behind him.
Yet in his face and in his bearing he could not have shown much of it, though at his deeply sun-burned temples the thick, close-cut hair was silvery; for Austin said with amused and at the same time fretful emphasis: "How the devil you keep the youth" in your face and figure I don't understand! I'm only forty-five--that's scarcely eight years older than you are! And look at my waistcoat! And look at my hair--I mean where the confounded ebb has left the tide-mark! Gad, I'd scarcely blame Eileen for thinking you qualified for a cradle-snatcher.

.

.

.

And, by the way, that Gladys girl is more of a woman than you'd believe.