‘We shall all be old some day, Guy and Hugo, and George, and
Mollie and Walter, and I; how strange that is; quite certainly
some day we shall be old.’
But it was not real to me even then.
‘Can I do anything for you, Grandmother?’ I asked. ‘Can I get
you another book?’
‘No, dear, no; I shall go to bed soon. Are the other young people
still there?’