"I am old." "Old ?" she echoed in deep surprise, and she looked up at him, as if she sought evidence of what he stated.
"Aye, old," he assured her bitterly.

"Look at the grey in my hair, the wrinkles in my face.

I am no likely lover for you, child.

You'll need a lusty, comely young gallant." She looked at him, and a faint smile flickered at the corners of her lips.

She observed his straight, handsome figure; his fine air of dignity and of strength.