"Ah! how you young people have been making history since I left. I shall not know this new world of your making."
"You find me changed?"
"Lovelier, Sylvia."
"It is nice to have you say that."
"Still greedy for conquest, even though it is only an old fogey?"
"Ah!"—with more intensity than he thought the occasion demanded—"you never can be that!"
"You are always kind, little girl. When I look into your eyes, I fancy it is the old Sylvia I am talking to, and not a fine lady."
"It is the old Sylvia."
"The Sylvia I knew would never have worn this"—touching a fold of her dress.
"She would, if she could. It is only a Paris tea-gown. She was happier in the prints at sixpence a yard from Guirk's shop in Lettergort."