I'll show the marks, don't you know." "Honorable scars." Kerry craned his neck suddenly at the street.
"There's Langueduc, if you want to see what he looks like--and Humbird just behind." Amory rose dynamically and sought the windows.
"Oh," he said, scrutinizing these worthies, "Humbird looks like a knock-out, but this Langueduc--he's the rugged type, isn't he?
I distrust that sort.

All diamonds look big in the rough." "Well," said Kerry, as the excitement subsided, "you're a literary genius.

It's up to you." "I wonder"-- Amory paused--"if I could be.

I honestly think so sometimes.
That sounds like the devil, and I wouldn't say it to anybody except you." "Well--go ahead.

Let your hair grow and write poems like this guy D'Invilliers in the Lit." Amory reached lazily at a pile of magazines on the table.
"Read his latest effort ?" "Never miss 'em.