“Some time ago," he said, "--how long it seems! -- I remember saying to a young friend of mine of the name of Spiller, 'Comrade Spiller, never confuse the unusual with the impossible.' It is my guiding rule in life.”

“Hear that, Eustace? He wishes we were staying a good long time.""I expect it will seem a good long time," said Eustace, philosophically.”

“Now look here, old friend," I said. "I know your bally heart is broken and all that, and at some future time I shall be delighted to hear all about it, but - ""I didn't come to talk about that.""No? Good egg!""The past," said young Bingo, "is dead. Let us say no more about it.""Right-o!""I have been wounded to the very depths of my soul, but don't speak about it.""I won't.""Ignore it. Forget it.""Absolutely!"I hadn't seen him so dashed reasonable for days.”

“I say, you don't know how I could raise fifty quid somehow, do you?""Why don't you work?""Work?" said young Bingo, surprised. "What, me? No, I shall have to think of some way.”

“You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing right out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.”

“And you call yourself a pal of mine!""Yes, I know; but there are limits.""Bertie," said Bingo reproachfully, "I saved your life once.""When?""Didn't I? It must have been some other fellow then. Well, anyway, we were boys together and all that. You can't let me down.""Oh, all right," I said. "But, when you say you haven't nerve enough for any dashed thing in the world, you misjudge yourself.”

“Young Bingo was too busy introducing the mob to take much notice. They were a very C3 collection. Comrade Butt looked like one of those things that come out of dead trees after the rain; moth-eaten was the word I should have used to described old Rowbotham; and as for Charlotte, she seemed to take me straight into another and a dreadful world.”