"Because you are an old man," I blurted out.
He stopped in the path, and I could feel him bristling with amazement and anger. Somewhat of a fop in dress, he had always carried himself in the gay manner of a man much younger than he probably was. His voice was very nasty:
"What?"
I repeated what I had said:
"You are an old man."
"What on earth makes you think that?" he demanded.
"Because your hair is gray," I stammered, "and because you look at least forty."
At that he broke into a loud chuckle.
"And you think forty old?"
I nodded. For a long moment he was silent, and then suddenly he took my arm, and we moved briskly down the path. We came to one of the piers, and he assisted me up the little stone steps. In silence we went out to the end of the pier. There was a little rustic inclosure at the end, covered with ivy from some sort of tree that seemed to grow out of the water. We sat down for a while and looked out across the sea. Everything was very dark and still. Presently he said: