Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he choked back the impulse. "You're just the
romantic age," she continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be pale from overwork;
forty is the age of long stories that take a whole cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is
the mellow age. I love fifty.
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