His hands, moving in sweeping gestures, were busy across the table, with the hors d'oeuvres, which he was now handing.
"Would you ever believe that Papa was seventy?" said Lot. "Papa, I'm amazed every time I see you! What keeps you so young?"
"I don't know, my boy; I'm built that way."
"Were you never afraid of getting old?"
"No, my dear fellow, I've never been afraid ... of getting old or of anything else."
"Then whom do I get it from? Mamma hasn't that fear, not as I have it, although ..."
"You're an artist; they have those queer ideas. I'm just ordinary."
"Yes, I wish I were like you, tall and broad-shouldered. I'm always jealous when I look at you."
"Come, Lot, you're very well as you are!" said Elly, defending him against himself.
"If you were like me, you wouldn't have attracted your wife, what do you say, Elly?"