"Why, there's only one way to take it," said Hungerford directly. "Our crowd's too damned select now to suit me. We need him a darn sight more than he needs us."
"I knew you'd feel that way."
"By George, that's why I came to Yale. If there are any little squirts in the crowd think differently, a swift kick where it'll do the most good will clear the atmosphere."
Stover looked at him with impulsive attraction. He was boyish, unspoiled, eager.
"Now, look here, Dink—you don't mind me calling you that, do you?" continued Hungerford, with a little hesitation.
"Go ahead."
"I want you to understand how I feel about things. I've got about everything in the world to make a conceited, pompous, useless little ass out of me, and about two hundred people who want to do it. I wish to blazes I was starting where Regan is—where my old dad did; I might do something worth while. Now, I don't want any hungry, boot-licking little pups around me whose bills I am to pay. I want to come in on your scale, and I'm mighty glad to get the chance. That's why my allowance isn't going to be one cent more than yours; and I want you to know it. Now, as for this fellow Regan—he sounds like a man. I tell you what I'll do. I'll fix it up in a shake of a lamb's tail."
"Question is whether Regan will come," said Stover doubtfully.
"By George, I'll make him. We'll go right out together and put it to him."