ives at the free-lunch table, a man approached and spoke to him,
and the olives dropped from his nervous hands.

"Well, Amory..."

It was some one he had known at Princeton; he had no idea of the name.

"Hello, old boy--" he heard himself saying.

"Name's Jim Wilson--you've forgotten."

"Sure, you bet, Jim. I remember."

"Going to reunion?"

"You know!" Simultaneously he realized that he was not going to reunion.

"Get overseas?"

Amory nodded, his eyes staring oddly. Stepping back to let some one
pass, he knocked the dish of olives to a crash on the floor.

"Too bad," he muttered. "Have a drink?"

Wilson, ponderously diplomatic, reached over and slapped him on the
back.

"You've had plenty, old boy."

Amory eyed him dumbly until Wilson grew embarrassed under the scrutiny.

"Plenty, hell!" said Amory finally. "I haven't had a drink to-day."

Wilson looked incredulous.

"Have a drink or not?" cried Amory rudely.

Together they sought the bar.

"Rye high."

"I'll just take a Bronx."

Wilson had another; Amory had several more. They decided to sit down.
At ten o'clock Wilson was displaced by Carling, class of '15. Amory, his
head spinning gorgeously, layer upon layer of soft satisfaction setting
over the bruised spots of his spirit, was discoursing volubly on the
war.

"'S a mental was'e," he insisted with owl-like wisdom. "Two years my
life spent inalleshual vacuity. Los' idealism, got be physcal anmal,"
he shook his fist expressively at Old King Cole, "got be Prussian 'bout
ev'thing, women 'specially. Use' be straight 'bout women college. Now
don'givadam." He expressed his lack of principle by sweeping a seltzer
bottle with a broad gesture to noisy extinction on the floor, but this
did not interrupt his speech. "Seek pleasure where find it for to-morrow
die. 'At's philos'phy for me now on."

Carling yawned, but Amory, waxing brilliant, continued:

"Use' wonder 'bout things--people satisfied compromise, fif'y-fif'y
att'tude on life. Now don' wonder, don' wonder--" He became so emphatic
in impressing on Carling the fact that he didn't wonder that he lost the
thread of his discourse and concluded by announcing to the bar at large
that he was a "physcal anmal."

"What are you celebrating, Amory?"

Amory leaned forward confidentially.

"Cel'brating blowmylife. Great moment blow my life. Can't tell you 'bout
it--"

He heard Carling addressing a remark to the bartender:

"Give him a bromo-s