The other day, a woman of 38 married a man of 30, whereupon the critics went into session and began to grouch.
Of course it wasn’t primarily their business; but, nevertheless, they proceeded to point out that a dozen or more years hence the wife will be going down life’s sunset slope, while the husband will be just entering his prime. They were quite sure such a marriage couldn’t end happily.
Theoretically, they may be right; but luckily life isn’t wholly a matter of theories.
The facts in this case were that the woman was possessed of that type of soul which doesn’t grow did. Given a mate who will love her and be kind, one with whom she can always live in a partnership of interests, and she will not age as her years multiply, but will keep the spirit of youth in her heart.
Likewise, it so’happened that this man was older in insight, in experience, in sympathies than his age implied. The difference of a few years between them measured no substantial difference in the things that count. True love bridges all such incidental gaps.
There’s no hard and fast rule of mathematics where the affections are concerned. We are all of us as young or as old as we feel.