"Yes, I know. I've heard all that before. Many a time. A woman's as old as she looks, but a man's as young as he feels—perhaps."
"A man is as old as his arteries—and a few other units of his physical economy."
"And a girl," said Holt, significantly, "is no older than the—what is it?—units of her physical economy."
Stainton bit his under lip.
"A girl is mature at eighteen—mature enough. I won't talk of that, George. We are discussing my age, and I tell you that I have something better than even the specialist's word to stand on: I have the knowledge of my own careful, healthy, abstemious life. I am sounder in body than hundreds and hundreds of what you would call average New Yorkers of twenty-one. I am sounder than their average. More than that, I have done something that most of them have not done: I have kept fresh and unimpaired the tastes, the appetites, the spirit of that age."
"You mean you believe you have."
"I know it."
"How can you know it until you try? And you won't try till you've committed yourself, Jim."
Stainton shook his great head.
"At this moment," he said, "I'm in twice better health—mental, moral, physical and every other way—understand me: every other way—than you were ten years ago."