his college career.

Amory found that writing for the Nassau Literary Magazine would get him
nothing, but that being on the board of the Daily Princetonian would get
any one a good deal. His vague desire to do immortal acting with the
English Dramatic Association faded out when he found that the most
ingenious brains and talents were concentrated upon the Triangle Club,
a musical comedy organization that every year took a great Christmas
trip. In the meanwhile, feeling strangely alone and restless in Commons,
with new desires and ambitions stirring in his mind, he let the first
term go by between an envy of the embryo successes and a puzzled fretting
with Kerry as to why they were not accepted immediately among the elite
of the class.

Many afternoons they lounged in the windows of 12 Univee and watched
the class pass to and from Commons, noting satellites already attaching
themselves to the more prominent, watching the lonely grind with his
hurried step and downcast eye, envying the happy security of the big
school groups.

"We're the damned middle class, that's what!" he complained to Kerry one
day as he lay stretched out on the sofa, consuming a family of Fatimas
with contemplative precision.

"Well, why not? We came to Princeton so we could feel that way toward
the small colleges--have it on 'em, more self-confidence, dress better,
cut a swathe--"

"Oh, it isn't that I mind the glittering caste system," admitted Amory.
"I like having a bunch of hot cats on top, but gosh, Kerry, I've got to