There's the sack on the floor, and any of its dirt that isn't on my face must be permanently settled in my lungs." "What are you doing up here in the mountains--why are you not at your station?
The potato-sack story is pretty flimsy.

Do better than that and hurry up!" "Armitage"-- as he spoke, Claiborne walked to the table and rested his finger-tips on it--"Armitage, you and I have made some mistakes during our short acquaintance.

I will tell you frankly that I have blown hot and cold about you as I never did before with another man in my life.

On the ship coming over and when I met you in Washington I thought well of you.
Then your damned cigarette case shook my confidence in you there at the Army and Navy Club that night; and now--" "Damn my cigarette case!" bellowed Armitage, clapping his hand to his pocket to make sure of it.
"That's what I say! But it was a disagreeable situation,--you must admit that." "It was, indeed!" "It requires some nerve for a man to tell a circumstantial story like that to a tableful of gentlemen, about one of the gentlemen!" "No doubt of it whatever, Mr.Claiborne." Armitage unbuttoned his coat, and jerked back the lapels impatiently.
"And I knew as much about Monsieur Chauvenet as I did about you, or as I do about you!" "What you know of him, Mr.Claiborne, is of no consequence.

And what you don't know about me would fill a large volume.