Go as far as you like." "Very well," said Fernand, "but--" "I may be out there later, myself.

Good-by." The face of Frederic Fernand was dark when he went back to McKeever.
"What do you think of the fellow with Jerry Smith ?" he asked.
"Of him ?" asked McKeever, fencing desperately for another moment, as he stared at Ronicky Doone.
The latter was idling at a table close to the wall, running his hands through a litter of magazines.

After a moment he raised his head suddenly and glanced across the room at McKeever.

The shock of meeting glances is almost a physical thing.

And the bold, calm eyes of Ronicky Doone lingered on McKeever and seemed to judge him and file that judgment away.
McKeever threw himself upon the wings of his imagination.