Chillingworth's men loved to remember that he had once carried copy.

They also understood all the legitimate devices by which he persuaded from them their best effort, yet these devices never failed, and the city room agreed that Chillingworth's fashion of giving an assignment to a new man would force him to write a readable account of his own entertainment in the dark meadows.

Largely by personal magnetism he had fought his way upward, and this quality was not less a social gift.
Mr.Toby Amory, who had been on the Eleven with St.George at Harvard, looked along his pipe at his host and smiled, with flattering content, his slow smile.

Amory's father had lately had a conspicuous quarter of an hour in Wall Street, as a result of which Amory, instead of taking St.George to the cemetery at Clusium as he had talked, himself drifted to Park Row; and although he now knew considerably less than he had hoped about certain inscriptions, he was supporting himself and two sisters by really brilliant work, so that the balance of his power was creditably maintained.

Surely the inscriptions did not suffer, and what then was Amory that he should object?
Presently Holt, the middle-aged marine man, and Harding who, since he had lost a lightweight sparring championship, was sporting editor, solemnly entered together and sat down with the social caution of their class.