for him, he was genuinely fond of the
man. George craved absolute independence, and he knew Goodhue would give
him all of that he asked for.

"I'd like to," he said.

Goodhue smiled.

"That's splendid. I think we'll manage together."

Wandel frowned at the news. So did Allen. Allen came frequently now to
talk his college socialism. George listened patiently, always answering:

"I've made up my mind to nothing, except that I'll take my friends where
I find them, high or low. But I'm not against you, Allen."

Yet George was uneasy, knowing the moment for making up his mind
wouldn't be long delayed. He understood very well that already some men
knew to what club they'd go more than a year later. Secretly, perhaps
illegally, the sections for the clubs were forming in his class. Small
groups were quietly organizing under the guidance of the upper classes.
During Sophomore year these small groups would elect other men to the
limit of full membership. It was perfectly clear that unless he went in
ahead of Dalrymple his chances of making the club he wanted were
worthless. As a result of his talks with Allen, moreover, he felt that
Wandel didn't want him. If Wandel could persuade Goodhue that George
could serve the interests of the fortunates best from the outside the
issue would be settled.

"But I won't be used that way," George decided. "I'm out for myself."

Along that straight line he had made his plans for the summer. Somehow
he was going to study the methods of the greatest financial market in
the country, so that later he could apply them serviceably to his own
fortune. Bailly had other ideas. One night while they lounged on the
front campus listening to senior singing the long tutor suggested that
he take up some form of manual labour.

"It would keep you in good condition," he said, "and it might broaden
your vision by disclosing the aims and the dissatisfactions of those who
live by the sweat of their brows."

George frowned.

"I know enough of that already. I've been a labourer myself. I haven't
the time, sir."

Bailly probably knew that he was dealing with a point of view far more
determined and mature than that of the average undergraduate. He didn't
argue, but George felt the need of an apology.

"I've got to learn how to make money," he said.

"Money isn't everything," Bailly sighed.

"I've started after certain things," George justified himself. "Money's
one of them. I'll work for next to noth