Wherefore," with a flash of his easy impudence, "when I preach, I mean it--for the other fellow." Wherry glanced at the handsome face of his erratic friend with frank allegiance in his eyes.
Carl flung his cigar into the fire, poured himself some whiskey and pushed the decanter across the table.
"Have a drink," he said whimsically.
Dick obeyed.

It was an inconsistent supplement to the sermon but characteristic.
"Carl," he said, flushing under the ironical battery of the other's eyes, "I don't think I understand you--" Carl laughed.
"Nobody does," he said.

"I don't myself.".