Yet, like most men of fifty, he was still very young, and, like most bachelors of fifty, he was rather helpless.

He was quite sure that he had not had the best of luck.

If he had excavated his soul he would have discovered somewhere in its deeps a wistful, appealing desire to be taken care of, to be sheltered from the inconveniences and harshness of the world.

But he would not have admitted the discovery.

A bachelor of fifty cannot be expected to admit that he resembles a girl of nineteen.