Yes, I know Starrett drags you about with him and you daren't offend him because he's your chief, but you're clever and you can get another job.

In ten years, as you're going now, you'll be an alcoholic ash-heap of jaded passions.

What's more, you have infernal luck at cards and you haven't money enough to keep on losing so heavily.

Half of the poker sermons Starrett's been growling about were preached for you." Now there were mad, irreverent moments when Carl Granberry delivered his poker sermons with the eloquent mannerisms of the pulpit, save, as Payson held, they were infinitely more logical and eloquent, but to-night, husking his logic of these externals, he fell flatly to preaching an unadorned philosophy of continence acutely at variance with his own habits.
Wherry stared wonderingly at the tall, lithe figure by the fire.
"Carl," he said at last, "tell me, are you honestly in earnest when you rag the fellows so about work and decency and all that sort of thing ?" Carl yawned and lighted a cigar.
"I believe," said he, "in the eternal efficacy of good.

I believe in the telepathic potency of moral force.