“Well, what does it signify if you do go out of your way a little, when your legs are strong and your blood circulates vigorously?” he said cheerfully.
“But the young heart can get lost,” said Felicia.
“I won't chop logic with you, young lady. I am trying to teach you that youth is a glorious thing and ought to be its own happiness. I suppose it is attempting to teach the unlearnable. Ah me! How beautiful it would be to be three and thirty again!”
“Three and thirty! Why, that is quite old!”
He looked at her with a touch of sadness and amusement, his head on one side.
“I suppose it is for you. I was forgetting. To me it is youth, the full prime of a man's life, when the world is at his feet. Later on he begins to feel it is on his shoulders. But at thirty-three—I was thinking of Raine. That is his age.”
“Have you heard from Mr. Chetwynd?” asked Felicia, after a longish pause.
“Oh, yes. He never keeps me long without news of him. There are only the two of us.”
“You seem very fond of one another,” said Felicia.
“I am proud of my son, my dear, and he is foolish enough to be proud of his poor old daddy.”