you."

Hugh dropped his suit-cases and shook hands. "Guess I can stand it," he
said with a quick laugh to hide his embarrassment. "Maybe you'll need a
little of God's help yourself." Diffident and unsure, he smiled--and
Peters liked him on the spot.

"Chase yourself," Peters said easily. "I know a good guy when I see one.
Sit down somewhere--er, here." He brushed a pile of clothes off a trunk
to the floor with one sweep of his arm. "Rest yourself after climbing
that goddamn hill. Christ! It's a bastard, that hill is. Say, your
trunk's down-stairs. I saw it. I'll help you bring it up soon's you've
got your wind."

Hugh was rather dazzled by the rapid, staccato talk, and, to tell the
truth, he was a little shocked by the profanity. Not that he wasn't used
to profanity; he had heard plenty of that in Merrytown, but he didn't
expect somehow that a college man--that is, a prep-school man--would use
it. He felt that he ought to make some reply to Peters's talk, but he
didn't know just what would do. Peters saved him the trouble.

"I'll tell you, Carver--oh, hell, I'm going to call you Hugh--we're
going to have a swell joint here. Quite the darb. Three rooms, you know;
a bedroom for each of us and this big study. I've brought most of the
junk that I had at Kane, and I s'pose you've got some of your own."

"Not much," Hugh replied, rather ashamed of what he thought might be
considered stinginess. He hastened to explain that he didn't know what
Carl would have; so he thought that he had better wait and get his stuff
at college.