The Plastic Age - Percy Marks (classic literature books txt) 📗

Them."

Every One Knew That He Referred To The National President Of The

Fraternity. "There Will Be No More Drunken Brawls In This House Such As

We Had At The Last House Dance. Any One Who Brings A Cheap Woman Into

This House At A Dance Will Hear From It. Both My Fiancee And My Sister

Were At The Last Dance. I Do Not Intend That They Shall Be Insulted

Again. This Is Not A Bawdy-House,  And I Want Some Of You To Remember

That."

 

He Tried Very Hard To Pass A Rule,  Such As Many Of The Fraternities Had,

That No One Could Bring Liquor Into The House And That There Should Be

No Gambling. He Failed,  However. The Brothers Took His Scolding About

The Dance Because Most Of Them Were Heartily Ashamed Of That Occasion;

But They Announced That They Did Not Intend To Have The Chapter Turned

Into The S.C.A.,  Which Was The Sanford Christian Association. It Would

Have Been Well For Hugh If The Law Had Been Passed. Vinton'S Insistent

Generosity Was Rapidly Turning Him Into A Steady Drinker. He Did Not Get

Drunk,  But He Was Taking Down More High-Balls Than Were Good For Him.

 

Outside Of His Drinking,  However,  He Was Leading A Virtuous And,  On The

Whole,  An Industrious Life. He Was Too Much In Love With Cynthia Day To

Let His Mind Dwell On Other Women,  And He Had Become Sufficiently

Interested In His Studies To Like Them For Their Own Sake.

 

A Change Had Come Over The Campus. It Was Inexplicable But Highly

Significant. There Had Been Evidences Of It The Year Before,  But Now It

Became So Evident That Even Some Of The Members Of The Faculty Were

Aware Of It. Intolerance Seemed To Be Dying,  And The Word "Wet" Was

Heard Less Often. The Undergraduates Were Forsaking Their Old Gods. The

Wave Of Materialism Was Swept Back By An In-Rushing Tide Of Idealism.

Students Suddenly Ceased To Concentrate In economics And Filled The

English And Philosophy Classes To Overflowing.

Chapter 15 Pg 114

No One Was Able Really To Explain The Causes For The Change,  But It Was

There And Welcome. The "Sanford Literary Magazine," Which Had Been

Slowly Perishing For Several Years,  Became Almost As Popular As The "Cap

And Bells," The Comic Magazine,  Which Coined Money By Publishing Risque

Jokes And Pictures Of Slightly Dressed Women. A Poetry Magazine Daringly

Made Its Appearance On The Campus And,  To The Surprise Of Its Editors,

Was Received So Cordially That They Were Able To Pay The Printer'S Bill.

 

It Became The Fashion To Read. Instructors In english Were Continually

Being Asked What The Best New Books Were Or If Such And Such A Book Was

All That It Was "Cracked Up To Be." If The Instructor Hadn'T Read The

Book,  He Was Treated To A Look Of Contempt That Sent Him Hastening To

The Library.

 

Of Course,  Not All Of The Undergraduates Took To Reading And Thinking;

The Millennium Had Not Arrived,  But The Intelligent Majority Began To

Read And Discuss Books Openly,  And The Intelligent Majority Ruled The

Campus.

 

Hugh Was One Of The Most Enthusiastic Of The Readers. He Was Taking A

Course In Nineteenth-Century Poetry With Blake,  The Head Of The English

Department. His Other Instructors Either Bored Him Or Left Him Cold,  But

Blake Turned Each Class Hour Into A Thrilling Experience. He Was A

Handsome Man With Gray Hair,  Dark Eyes,  And A Magnificent Voice. He

Taught Poetry Almost Entirely By Reading It,  Only Occasionally

Interpolating An Explanatory Remark,  And He Read Beautifully. His

Reading Was Dramatic,  Almost Tricky; But It Made The Poems Live For His

Students,  And They Reveled In His Classes.

 

Hugh'S Junior Year Was Made Almost Beautiful By That Poetry Course And

By His Adoration For Cynthia. He Was Writing Verses Constantly--And He

Found "Cynthia" An Exceedingly Troublesome Word; It Seemed As If Nothing

Would Rime With It. At Times He Thought Of Taking To Free Verse,  But The

Results Of His Efforts Did Not Satisfy Him. He Always Had The Feeling

That He Had Merely Chopped Up Some Rather Bad Prose; And He Was

Invariably Right. Cynthia Wrote Him That She Loved The Poems He Sent

Her Because They Were So Passionate. He Blushed When He Read Her Praise.

It Disturbed Him. He Wished That She Had Used A Different Word.

 

Chapter 16 Pg 115

 

For The First Term Hugh Slid Comfortably Down A Well Oiled Groove Of

Routine. He Went To The Movies Regularly,  Wrote As Regularly To Cynthia

And Thought About Her Even More,  Read Enormous Quantities Of Poetry,

"Bulled" With His Friends,  Attended All The Athletic Contests,  Played

Cards Occasionally,  And Received His Daily Liquor From Vinton. He No

Longer Protested When Vinton Offered Him A Drink; He Accepted It As A

Matter Of Course,  And He Had Almost Completely Forgotten That "Smoking

Wasn'T Good For A Runner." He Had Just About Decided That He Wasn'T A

Runner,  Anyway.

Chapter 16 Pg 116

 

One Evening In early Spring He Met George Winsor As He Was Crossing The

Campus.

 

"Hello,  George. Where Are You Going?"

 

"Over To Ted Alien'S Room. Big Poker Party To-Night. Don'T You Want To

Sit In?"

 

"You Told Me Last Week That You Had Sworn Off Poker. How Come You'Re

Playing Again So Soon?" Hugh Strolled Lazily Along With Winsor.

 

"Not Poker,  Hugh--Craps. I'Ve Sworn Off Craps For Good,  And Maybe I'Ll

Swear Off Poker After To-Night. I'M Nearly A Hundred Berries To The Good

Right Now,  And I Can Afford To Play If I Want To."

 

"I'M A Little Ahead Myself," Said Hugh. "I Don'T Play Very Often,

Though,  Except In The House When The Fellows Insist. I Can'T Shoot Craps

At All,  And I Get Tired Of Cards After A Couple Of Hours."

 

"I'M A Damn Fool To Play," Winsor Asserted Positively,  "A Plain Damn

Fool,  I Oughtn'T To Waste My Time At It,  But I'M A Regular Fiend For The

Game. I Get A Great Kick Out Of It. How'S To Sit In With Us? There'S

Only Going To Be Half A Dozen Fellows. Two-Bit Limit."

 

"Yeah,  It'Ll Start With A Two-Bit Limit,  But After An Hour Deuces'Ll Be

Wild All Over The Place And The Sky Will Be The Limit. I'Ve Sat In Those

Games Before."

 

Winsor Laughed. "Guess You'Re Right,  But What'S The Odds? Better Shoot A

Few Hands."

 

"Well,  All-Right,  But I Can'T Stay Later Than Eleven. I'Ve Got A Quiz In

Eccy To-Morrow,  And I'Ve Got To Bone Up On It Some Time To-Night."

 

"I'Ve Got That Quiz,  Too. I'Ll Leave With You At Eleven."

 

Winsor And Hugh Entered The Dormitory And Climbed The Stairs. Allen'S

Door Was Open,  And Several Undergraduates Were Lolling Around The Room,

Smoking And Chatting. They Welcomed The New-Comers With Shouts Of "Hi,

Hugh," And "Hi,  George."

 

Allen Had A Large Round Table In The Center Of His Study,  And The Boys

Soon Had It Cleared For Action. Allen Tossed The Cards Upon The Table,

Produced Several Ash-Trays,  And Then Carefully Locked The Door.

 

"Keep An Ear Open For Mac," He Admonished His Friends; "He'S Warned Me

Twice Now," "Mac" Was The Night-Watchman,  And He Had A Way Of Dropping

In Unexpectedly On Gambling Parties. "Here Are The Chips. You Count 'Em

Out,  George. Two-Bit Limit."

 

The Boys Drew Up Chairs To The Table,  Lighted Cigarettes Or Pipes,  And

Began The Game. Hugh Had Been Right; The "Two-Bit Limit" Was Soon

Lifted,  And Allen Urged His Guests To Go As Far As They Liked.

 

There Were Ugly Rumors About Allen Around The Campus. He Was Good

Chapter 16 Pg 117

Looking,  Belonged To A Fraternity In High Standing,  Wore Excellent

Clothes,  And Did Fairly Well In His Studies; But The Rumors Persisted.

There Were Students Who Insisted That He Hadn'T The Conscience Of A

Snake,  And A Good Many Of Them Hinted That No Honest Man Ever Had Such

Consistently Good Luck At Cards And Dice.

 

The Other Boys Soon Got Heated And Talkative,  But Allen Said Little

Besides Announcing His Bids. His Blue Eyes Remained Coldly

Expressionless Whether He Won Or Lost The Hand; His Crisp,  Curly Brown

Hair Remained Neatly Combed And Untouched By A Nervous Hand; His Lips

Parted Occasionally In a Quiet Smile: He Was The Perfect Gambler,  Never

Excited,  Always In absolute Control Of Himself.

 

Hugh Marveled At The Control As The Evening Wore On. He Was Excited,

And,  Try As He Would,  He Could Not Keep His Excitement From Showing.

Luck,  However,  Was With Him; By Ten O'Clock He Was Seventy-Five Dollars

Ahead,  And Most Of It Was Allen'S Money.

 

Hugh Passed By Three Hands In Succession,  Unwilling To Take Any Chances.

He Had Decided To "Play Close," Never Betting Unless He Held Something

Worth Putting His Money On.

 

Allen Dealt The Fourth Hand. "Ante Up," He Said Quietly. The Five Other

Men Followed His Lead In Tossing Chips Into The Center Of The Table. He

Looked At His Hand. "Two Blue Ones If You Want To Stay In." Winsor And

Two Of The Men Threw Down Their Cards,  But Hugh And A Lad Named Mandel

Each Shoved Two Blue Chips Into The Pot.

 

Hugh Had Three Queens And An Ace. "One Card," He Said To Allen. Allen

Tossed Him The Card,  And Hugh'S Heart Leaped When He Saw That It Was An

Ace.

 

"Two Cards,  Ted," Mandel Requested,  Nervously Crushing His Cigarette In

An Ash-Tray. He Picked Up The Cards One At A Time,  Lifting Each Slowly

By One Corner,  And Peeking At It As If He Were Afraid That A Sudden Full

View Would Blast Him To Eternity. His Face Did Not Change Expression As

He Added The Cards To The Three That He Held In His Hand.

 

"I'M Sitting Pretty," Allen Remarked Casually,  Picking