"I'm not a young fellow, if you call thirty-nine old." "At my age I don't," March put in, and they roared together, in men's security from the encroachments of time.
"But she happens to be the only woman I've ever really wanted to marry, for more than a few days at a stretch.

You know how it is with us." "Oh, yes, I know," said March, and they shouted again.
"We're in love, and we're out of love, twenty times.

But this isn't a mere fancy; it's a conviction.

And there's no reason why she shouldn't marry me." March smiled gravely, and his smile was not lost upon Kenby.

"You mean the boy," he said.