Good God! No one had seemed to question until Brian in a burst of temper had brought the world about his ears.
Well, let the world misjudge him if it chose.

He was big enough, he knew, to hold his head above it.
In a mood of lively irony he whipped forth a notebook and wrote a sarcastic summary of his shortcomings, his lips curled in hostile interest.
"Sunsets and vanity," he wrote with a flourish and lost his temper.
Well, that phase in Brian's life was closed forever, thanks to Whitaker's meddling tongue.

Never again would Kenny lay himself open to misinterpretation by seeking commissions for his son.

Brian could write truth for Whitaker with a blue pencil and be damned! "Hairbrained, unquenchable youth," he wrote next and added airily after this: "This is likely hair and teeth." "Irresponsible." "Failure as a parent." This he underlined.
"Need to suffer and learn something of the psychology of sacrifice." "Romantic attitude toward the truth." "Improvidence.

Need for plebeian regularity in money affairs and petty debt." "Disorder--chairs to sit down on without looking first." "I borrow Brian's money and his clothes." "Pawned shotgun, tennis racket, some fishing tackle and golf clubs." "Note: Look over tickets." "A tendency to indolence." He had begun with an air of bored amusement; he finished grimly, read and reread.