Isawonemiddle-agedcoupleonGoatIsland，whileyouweredownattheCaveoftheWinds，orsomewhere，withthechildren。Theyweresittingonsomesteps，heastepbelowher，andheseemedtowanttoputhisheadonherknee；butIgazedathimsternly，andhedidn’tdare。Weshouldlooklikethem，ifweyieldedtoanyoutburstofaffection。Don’tyouthinkweshouldlooklikethem？“
“Idon’tknow，“saidBasil。“Youarecertainlyalittlewrinkled，mydear。“
“Andyouareveryfat，Basil。“
Theyglancedateachotherwithaflashofresentment，andthentheybothlaughed。“Wecouldn’tlookyoungifwequarreledaweek，“hesaid。
“Wehadbettercontentourselveswithfeelingyoung，asIhopeweshalldoifwelivetobeninety。Itwillbethelossofothersiftheydon’tseeourbloomuponus。ShallIgetyouapaperofcherries，Isabel？Thechildrenseemtobeenjoyingthem。“