See the wrinkles on my forehead; the loose folds of my neck; the crow's-feet round my eyes.

And look," he grinned, "I have lost one of my eye teeth.

Look at these hands, too, Amalia.

My fingers are like claws; there are yellow spots on the finger-nails; the blue veins stand out.

They are the hands of an old man." She clasped both his hands as he held them out for her to see, and affectionately kissed them one after the other in the shaded walk.
"To-night, I will kiss you on the lips," she said, with a mingling of humility and tenderness, which roused his gall.
Close by, where the alley opened on to the greensward, Marcolina was stretched on the grass, her hands clasped beneath her head, looking skyward while the shuttlecocks flew to and fro.