mehow new to him.

There was a picture of the "old lady" on the dresser. It caught his eye,
and he flinched. It seemed to look at him reproachfully. He thought of
his mother, and he thought of how he had bluffed Hugh. He had cried
after his first experience with the girl.

He looked again into the mirror. "You goddamn hypocrite," he said
softly; "you goddamn hypocrite." His lip curled in contempt at his
image.

He began to undress rapidly. The eyes of the "old lady" in the picture
seemed to follow him around the room. The thought of her haunted him.
Desperately, he switched out the light.

Once in bed, he rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in the
pillow. "God!" he whispered. "God!"

CHAPTER XV

Sanford defeated Raleigh this year in football, and for a time the
college was wild with excitement and delight. Most of the free lumber in
Haydensville was burned in a triumphant bonfire, and many of the
undergraduates celebrated so joyously with their winnings that they
looked sadly bedraggled for several days afterward.

The victory was discussed until the boys were thoroughly sick of it, and
then they settled down to a normal life, studying; playing pool,
billiards, and cards; going to the movies, reading a little, and holding
bull sessions.

Hugh attended many bull sessions. Some of them he found interesting, but
many of them were merely orgies of filthy talk, the participants vying
with one another in telling the dirtiest stories; and although Hugh was
not a prig, he was offended by a dirty story that was told merely for
the sake of its dirt. Pudge Jamieson's stories were smutty, but they
were funny, too, and he could send Hugh into paroxysms of laughter any
time that he chose.

One night in late November Hugh was in Gordon Ross's room in Surrey
along with four others. Ross was a senior, a quiet man with gray eyes,
rather heavy features, and soft brown hair. He was considerably older
than the others, having worked for several years before he came to
college. He listened to the stories that were being told, occasionally
smiled, but more often studied the group curiously.

The talk became exceedingly nasty, and Hugh was about to leave in
disgust when the discussion suddenly turned serious.

"Do you know," said George Winsor abruptly, "I wonder why we hold these
smut sessions. I sit here and laugh like a fool and am ashamed of myself
half the time. And this isn't the only smut session that's g