some of them think; if they did n’t, I’d leave col¬ lege to-morrow. It’s men like Davis and Maxwell and Henley and Jimpson who keep me here. But most of the profs can’t do anything more than spout a few facts that they’ve got out of books. No, they don’t know any more about it than we do. We don’t know why we ’re here or where we ’re going or what we ought to do while we are here. And we get into groups and tell smutty stories and talk about women and religion, and we don’t know any more than when we started. Think of all the talk that goes on around this college about sex. There’s no end to it. Some of the fellows say pos¬ itively there’s no sense in staying straight; and a few, damn few, admit that they think a fellow ought to leave women alone, but most of them are in a muddle.”
He rose and stretched. “I’ve got to be going— a philosophy quiz to-morrow.” He smiled. “I don’t agree with Nutter, and I don’t agree with George, and I don’t agree with you, Don; and the worst of it is that I don’t agree with myself. You fellows can bull about this some more if you want to; I’ve got to study.”
“No, they can’t,” said Ross. “Not here, any¬ way. I’ve got to study, too. The whole of you ’ll have to get out.”
The boys rose and stretched. Ferguson rolled lazily off the couch. “Well,” he said with a yawn,
