“From himself, I guess,” was the answer. “You’re all right, Dunk!”
“Come on, Dunk,” said Andy good naturedly. “I’m going to the room. Coming?”
Instantly there was a storm of protest.
“Of course he’s not coming!”
“It’s early yet!”
“Don’t you go, Dunk!”
Mortimer Gaffington, fixing an insolent and supercilious stare on Andy, said:
“Don’t mind him, Dunk. You’re not tied to him, remember. The little-brother-come-in-out-of-the-wet game doesn’t go at Yale. Every man stands on his own feet. Eh, Dunk?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re not going to leave your loving friends and go home so early; are you, Dunk?”