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THE PLASTIC AGE

When Winsor finished speaking, Pudge forced his legs into his favorite position for them and then twinkled at Winsor through his glasses.

“Right you are, George,” he said in his quick way. “I wear a Phi Bete key, too. We both belong to the world’s greatest intellectual fraternity, but what in hell do we know? We’ve all majored in English except Jack, and I ’ll bet any one of us can give the others an exam offhand that they can’t pass. I’m going to law school. I hope to God that I learn something there. I certainly don’t feel that I know anything now as a result of my four years of ‘higher education.’ ”

“Well, if you fellows feel that way,” said Hugh mournfully, “how do you suppose I feel? I made my first really good record last term, and that was n’t any world beater. I’ve learned how to gamble and smoke and drink and pet in college, but that’s about all that I have learned. I’m not as fine as I was when I came here. I’ve been coars¬ ened and cheapened; all of us have. I take things for granted that shocked me horribly once. I know that they ought to shock me now, but they don’t. I’ve made some friends and I’ve had a wonderful time, but I certainly don’t feel that I have got any other value out of college.”

Winsor could not sit still and talk. He filled his pipe viciously, lighted it, and then jumped up and leaned against the mantel. “I admit everything