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92
THE PLASTIC AGE
football game, not a national calamity. I enjoy the game myself, but why weep over it? I don’t think I ever saw anything more absurd than those boys singing with tears running into their mouths.”
Shocked, the boys looked at each other. They started to make angry remarks but paused as Ailing spoke.
“Of course, what you say, Jones, is quite right,” he remarked calmly, “quite right. But, do you know, I pity you.”
“Ailing’s a good guy,” Hugh told Carl later; “he’s human.”
