Landtakers: The Story of an Epoch

Cabell hardly recognized Gursey. He was nearly fifty years old now, cadaverous, shrunken, just, in fact, hanging on to life. His hair had gone white and he walked doubled up and leaning on a stick. He made a pathetic figure against the background of young men who were always passing through, the people of the new era. In the contrast one sensed some of the sturm und drang of the bad old days.

Cabell avoided him at first, the change in Gursey moved him so. If the man had flown at him with reproaches or even scowled he would have felt easier. But Gursey was like a whipped dog--humble and broken.