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I will not play Giono's game or that of some country literary aristocrat or that of the pseudoinnocents who dance their attendance upon the Academy as they would upon an aged wealthy aunt […]
At St. Regis' Amory stayed three days and took his exams with a scoffing confidence, then doubling back to New York to pay his tutelary visit. […] [Monsignor Darcy] and Amory took to each other at first sight—the jovial, impressive prelate who could dazzle an embassy ball, and the green-eyed, intent youth, in his first long trousers, accepted in their own minds a relation of father and son within a half-hour's conversation.
Why don't you investigate? he demanded. And investigate I did.
Why don't you investigate?
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