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LeRoy’s shins and ankles that afternoon didn’t look to me like you loved Negroes much, Tommy!”
    The other sat up angrily. “Yeah. Ok! And I’ll give him worse next year, too,” he said with emphasis. “Him and that clunk, that boyfriend of yours, Goldman, and the rest of those lugs...”
    “Me, too.”
    “Same here. When you’re playing with a gang of thugs like that you can’t be fancy. They think every year we’re a bunch of softies; well, they found out this time.”
    “They found out—what?” Ronald was on his feet. Now he knew. He disliked them. Once they had been schoolmates, teammates, friends. Now they were there, over there, across that river, going away from him. He kept calling to them but they moved farther and farther away. “They found out—what? That we wanted to win the worst way, that what the Duke always said in chapel about playing the game was a lot of beeswax, that all Baldy’s talk about clean, hard football was tripe once we got on the field and saw we had a chance to trim ’em. They found out a lot of things. That we talked about sportsmanship but kicked LeRoy in the shins whenever we could, and ganged up on Goldman...”
    “Yeah! What about them? Maybe they didn’t all gang up on you whenever you tried to throw a pass?”
    “Don’t we call that rushing the passer?”
    “And maybe they didn’t go for your shoulder, that guy Stacey, their end. And Fronzak, always cracking Roger on his bum ankle in the scrimmages, and Mancini...”
    “Why, those lugs, those meatballs,” said Tommy, “they couldn’t play clean if they tried. Those peasants...”
    Inside Ronald something happened. For just a minute he was outside the whole world, he saw nothing in the room, lost the sound of voices all talking together in angry tones. He was entirely alone in a world with himself which nothing could penetrate. Then he heard his own words, cold hard words that came from deep within.
    “Peasants! They’re no more peasants than you guys.”
    “Yeah! You like ‘em so darn well, Ronny, looks like you’d quit the Academy and go down there—with your friends.”
    Ronald stood up. Now he knew exactly what he was saying. The red hot fury of anger suddenly passed. He was cool now, yet trembling. “You’re quite wrong, all of you. They aren’t my friends. They don’t like me at all—yet. Maybe they never will. But you’ve got something there, Tommy; that’s a good idea. I think I will quit this place. Right now.”
    His coat had slipped down to the floor from Keith’s bed. Everyone was watching him wide-eyed as he slowly wrapped the muffler about his neck, his hand trembling in spite of all he could do to keep it steady. Taking one look around the room, he shoved on his coat. This room where he had been happy and was now unhappy. Tommy was right. There was no use staying on.
    Down the hall his footsteps sounded. Then slowly on the wooden stairs. Inside, the room was dazed. Keith sat up straight, looking at Tommy and Eric, and Tommy looked back at Keith and Roger.
    “Gosh!” said Keith.
    “Aw... he’ll cool off. He’ll come back. You’ll see, he’ll come back by dinnertime. Just see if he doesn’t.”
    “Aw, he’s nuts,” remarked Tommy. “Completely nuts, that’s all. Been that way ever since he took that beating-up in the High School game. Why, he’s been queer ever since then. I’ve noticed it.” Tommy unraveled himself from the window seat, refusing to treat it as a major tragedy. What was the use of getting excited? Ronny would be back for dinner just as Eric said.
    “Who wants to go over to the gym and shoot some squash?”
IV
    “I don’t know whether your father can see you this morning or not, Mr. Ronald. He’s been in conference all morning with the board of the Terrington Company. I think maybe he has a luncheon engagement with them, too.”
    Miss Jessup in the outer office looked up at him. To break away from the Academy and people he had begun to dislike, who