They turned into the northern road, clattered past the cornfield and the church. Gard continued: "One of those Dunker farmers lives up here half a mile. I want his clothes, his expression, and his language, and his theology—the whole outfit."
"Going to steal his most intimate properties. Blanked immoral thing to do. All right, go on."
"About copy. Anything that goes south of the Potomac will be apt to mean a rope for me, and New York papers go south of the Potomac."
"Egotistic still, but perspicuous. I see."
"It's between me and you and the Dunker."
"And that's a pretty combination!"
"Not a sign, Jack."
"Not a misplaced comma, not an agitated phrase shall betray the mystery of this night. Now, then. Why?"
"Oh, you! You'll have to make me up."
"And the Dunker?"