I took these hemmed-up pants with me to college, and by the end of the year they were all high-water jeans because at eighteen I was still growing.

Mr. Casey I notice that counsel [Mr. Whitley] or someone asked you as to card carrying Communist. Mr. McCuistion, Yes. Mr. Casey,. Is that a well-known phrase, card carrying Communist? Mr. McQuistion, That card-carrying Communist is the type of Communist who comes out and admits to everybody he is a Communist. Mr. Casey. But it has no reference to his membership card at all? Mr. McQuistion. Yes. He flashes it to everybody, just like a reporter flashes his credentials at this thing here, if it was not known to the other reporters. He tells everybody. Mr. Casey. Did you ever see Joe Curran's card? Mr. McQuistion. No; I never saw Joe Curran's card. I know enough about Communist procedure, however, to know that Joe Curran would not be issued a card, anyhow, in the name of Joe Curran. Mr. Casey. I mean if he was a card carrying Communist who flashes his card.? Mr. McQuistion. Oh, they would not make that type of man—they very seldom make that type of man an official.

Assuredly a Dudley Sowerby would be immensely startled to find his bride a young woman more than babily aware of the existence of one particular form of naughtiness on earth.

I remember very vividly the torchlit scene—the uproar and excitement, the red flags flapping in the torchlight, the massed ranks of militiamen with their knapsacks on their backs and their rolled blankets worn bandolier-wise across the shoulder […]