"The lane's thick with snow.

Heavens, man, it's no night for a tramp.

Allan's coming in with the mail and he looks like a snow man." "You promised," reminded Carl inexorably.

"How long since you've had a drink, Dick ?" "Nine weeks!" said Wherry, his boyish face kindling suddenly with pride.
"And your eyes and skin are clear and you're lean and hard as a race horse.

But what a fight! What a fight!" Carl slipped his arm suddenly about the other's broad shoulders.