he must see was Bones Allen. He wanted to ask Bones many questions. Now. Since the episode of the whispering couple there were things that he felt he must find out, not later, but immediately.
The fraternity house was deserted when he reached it—his roadster had beaten pedestrians home from the game. He went on up to his room and there waited. Within five minutes a bang and a thump and a whoop of laughter announced the first arrivals. Within ten, the noise had grown to an uproar. Someone started the Victrola. Girls brought in by their escorts for tea chattered shrilly, all at once, each striving to outchatter the other, as girls will when there are men to hear them. Then there came a stamp of heavy feet on the stairs, and Bones shouted, "Jock! Hey, Jock, are you up there? How's to bring the ole banjo and tweak us a little tune?"
"Come here," said Jock.
Bones entered. "All the mommas have been paging you, as usual, and I—why, what's happened? Why the owly look?"
Jock spoke with a quiet force that sobered his roommate instantly. "Look here, Bones, I want you to tell me one thing and tell it straight. Just what's the general attitude on Brad Hathaway's wife and myself?"
"You ought to know. They kid you enough, don't they?"
"Sure, they kid me, and I know they think I like her pretty well and all that, but—why Bones, good Lord, they don't really believe there's anything wrong in it, do they?"
Bones hesitated. "Nobody in the fraternity does," he said at last slowly. "But some of the fellows outside who don't know you so well—well, I guess maybe
