The Crystal Cup begins: Old age will be served, said Mrs. Carteret grimly. But I suppose you think I am a long time dying. Gita made a face in the heavy shade of the bed hangings, but replied politely: I am glad to be here, Grandmother, and when it's my turn to die I'll take all the time I choose. She had a crisp clear voice and a staccato delivery, which she made no attempt to modify in the sickroom, and the old lady frowned.