"Just this: I handed the young fool a job that ten of the best newspaper men in New York were pursuing and he turned me down cold to stay all winter in some God-forsaken quarry where he's hacking up stone--" "Hacking up stone!" "Feels philanthropic.

Grinds stone all day and at night helps a kid he's known six months cram for a college exam.

Damon and Pythias stuff and I'm the goat.

Pythias is seventeen by the way and wants to work his way through college." "Mother of men!" said Kenny softly and thought of Joan's relief.
"Sounds very beautiful and lofty in a letter," went on Whitaker, angling for sympathy, "but of all the damned, high-falutin' lunacy I've ever seen in men, that's the limit." He waited, confident in his expectation that Kenny would agree.

The voice that came back fairly bristled with virtue and approval.
"You filled his head with notions about service, didn't you, Whitaker ?" demanded Kenny indignantly.