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216
THE PLASTIC AGE


For an instant Hugh continued to stare; then h whirled about, walked out of the room, slammed th door behind him, and hurried down the stairs. H delivered the wrap to Mrs. Reynolds, and two mir utes later he was out of the house walking, almos running, across the campus to Surrey Hall. One there, he tore off his top-coat, his jacket, his colla and tie, and threw himself down into a chair.

So this was college! This was the fraternity— that goddamned rat house! That was what he ha pledged allegiance to, was it? Those were hi brothers, were they? Brothers! Brothers!

He fairly leaped out of his chair and began t pace the floor. College! Gentlemen! A lot c muckers chasing around with a bunch of rats; that what they were. Great thing—fraternities. N doubt about it, they were a great institution.

He paused in his mental tirade, suddenly coi scious of the fact that he was n’t fair. Some c the fraternities, he knew, would never stand for ar such performance as he had witnessed that evening most of them, he was sure, would n’t. It was ju the Nu Deltas and one or two others; well, mayl three or four. So that’s what he had joined, w; it?

He thought of Hester Sheville, of her whisl* breath, her lascivious pawing—and his ham clenched. “Filthy little rat,” he said aloud, “tl stinkin’, rotten rat.”