oing on
right now. I bet there's thirty at least going on around the campus. Why
are we always getting into little groups and covering each other with
filth? College men are supposed to be gentlemen, and we talk like a lot
of gutter-pups." Winsor was a sophomore, a fine student, and thoroughly
popular. He looked like an unkempt Airedale. His clothes, even when new,
never looked neat, and his rusty hair refused to lie flat. He had an
eager, quick way about him, and his brown eyes were very bright and
lively.

"Yes, that's what I want to know," Hugh chimed in, forgetting all about
his desire to leave. "I'm always sitting in on bull sessions, but I
think they re rotten. About every so often I make up my mind that I
won't take part in another one, and before I know it somebody's telling
me the latest and I'm listening for all I'm worth."

"That's easy,"' Melville Burbank answered. He was a junior with a
brilliant record. "You're merely sublimating your sex instincts, that's
all. If you played around with cheap women more, you wouldn't be
thinking about sex all the time and talking smut."

"You're crazy!" It was Keith Nutter talking, a sophomore notorious for
his dissipations. "Hell, I'm out with bags all the time, as you damn
well know. My sex instincts don't need sublimating, or whatever you call
it, and I talk smut as much as anybody--more than some."

"Perhaps you're just naturally dirty," Burbank said, his voice edged
with sarcasm. He didn't like Nutter. The boy seemed gross to him.

"Go to hell! I'm no dirtier than anybody else." Nutter was not only
angry but frankly hurt. "The only difference between me and the rest of
you guys is that I admit that I chase around with rats, and the rest of
you do it on the sly. I'm no hypocrite."

"Oh, come off, Keith," Gordon Ross said quietly; "you're not fair. I
admit that lots of the fellows are chasing around with rats on the sly,
but lots of them aren't, too. More fellows go straight around this
college than you think. I know a number that have never touched a woman.
They just hate to admit they're pure, that's all; and you take their
bluff for the real thing."

"You've got to show me." Nutter was almost sullen. "I admit that I'm no
angel, but I don't believe that I'm a damn bit worse than the average.
Besides, what's wrong about it, anyhow? It's just as natural as eating,
and I don't see where there is anything worse about it."

George Winsor stood up and leaned agains