"I won't have even that many after this." "I should hope not," replied Mr.Luce.

"You're under training pledge, you know." All Fred meant by his promise was that he would use pumice stone painstakingly on his finger tips hereafter.
Within the next few days, Dick and Darrin made about the best showing as to sprinting form, though many of the others did remarkably well.
"Ripley isn't cutting out the cigarettes," decided Mr.Luce, watching the running of the lawyer's son.

"He proves it by his lack of improvement.

His respiration is all to the bad." Mr.Luce was shrewd enough to know that, in Fred Ripley, he had a liar to deal with, and that neither repeated warnings nor renewed promises were worth much.

So he held his peace.
In a few days more, all the members of the Athletics Committee who could attend went to the field.