I can see well enough," he went on, after a pause, "all the best big fellows look on me with suspicion; they think I'm a devil-may-care, reckless young scamp.
So I am--eleven hours out of twelve, but not the twelfth.

Then all of our contemporaries worth knowing follow suit, of course: we're very good friends at games and all that, but not a soul of them but you and Arthur ever tried to break through the crust, and see whether there was anything at the bottom of me; and then the bad ones I won't stand and they know that." "Don't you think that's half fancy, Harry ?" "Not a bit of it," said East bitterly, pegging away with his pencil.
"I see it all plain enough.

Bless you, you think everybody's as straightforward and kindhearted as you are." "Well, but what's the reason of it?
There must be a reason.

You can play all the games as well as any one and sing the best song, and are the best company in the house.

You fancy you're not liked, Harry.