![]() ![]() Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button-for it was by this name they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious Methuselah-was five feet eight inches tall."Are you my father?" he demanded."Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd get me out of this place-or, at least, get them to put a comfortable rocker in here," The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice.There was no mistake-he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten-a baby of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the crib in which it was reposing.Button with dim, faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled question. His sparse hair was almost white, and from his chin dripped a long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth,fanned by the breeze coming in at the window. Wrapped in a voluminous white blanket, and partly crammed into one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently about seventy years of age. ![]()
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