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“Do you remember after the last war—when we were hunting down Mr. Brown? Do you remember what fun it was? How excited we were?” Tommy agreed, his face lighting up. “Rather!” “Tommy—why isn’t it the same now?” He considered the question, his quiet ugly face grave. Then he said: “I suppose it’s really—a question of age.” Tuppence said sharply: “You don’t think—we’re too old?” — Agatha Christie
Do you remember after the last war—when we were hunting down Mr. Brown? Do you remember what fun it was? How excited we were?”
Tommy agreed, his face lighting up.
“Rather!”
“Tommy—why isn’t it the same now?”
He considered the question, his quiet ugly face grave. Then he said:
“I suppose it’s really—a question of age.”
Tuppence said sharply:
“You don’t think—we’re too old?