We oldsters are always queer to the young.

We're either ridiculously lively and chirpy, or we're ridiculously stiff and grim; they never expect to be like us, and wouldn't, for the world.

The worst of it is, we elderly people are absurd to one another; we don't, at the bottom of our hearts, believe we're like that, when we meet.

I suppose that arrogant old ass of a Triscoe looks upon me as a grinning dotard." "I wonder," said Mrs.March, "if she's told him yet," and March perceived that she was now suddenly far from the mood of philosophic introspection; but he had no difficulty in following her.
"She's had time enough.

But it was an awkward task Burnamy left to her." "Yes, when I think of that, I can hardly forgive him for coming back in that way.