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"
Well
,
then
,
"
complained
Tom
,
his
cracked
voice
rising
plaintively
,
"
why
do
I
have
to
come
back
at
all
?
I
've
learned
all
that
Princeton
has
to
offer
.
Two
years
more
of
mere
pedantry
and
lying
around
a
club
are
n't
going
to
help
.
They
're
just
going
to
disorganize
me
,
conventionalize
me
completely
.
Even
now
I
'm
so
spineless
that
I
wonder
how
I
get
away
with
it
.
"
"
Oh
,
but
you
're
missing
the
real
point
,
Tom
,
"
Amory
interrupted
.
"
You
've
just
had
your
eyes
opened
to
the
snobbishness
of
the
world
in
a
rather
abrupt
manner
.
Princeton
invariably
gives
the
thoughtful
man
a
social
sense
.
"
"
You
consider
you
taught
me
that
,
do
n't
you
?
"
he
asked
quizzically
,
eying
Amory
in
the
half
dark
.
Amory
laughed
quietly
.
"
Did
n't
I
?
"
"
Sometimes
,
"
he
said
slowly
,
"
I
think
you
're
my
bad
angel
.
I
might
have
been
a
pretty
fair
poet
.
"
"
Come
on
,
that
's
rather
hard
.
You
chose
to
come
to
an
Eastern
college
.
Either
your
eyes
were
opened
to
the
mean
scrambling
quality
of
people
,
or
you
'd
have
gone
through
blind
,
and
you
'd
hate
to
have
done
that
--
been
like
Marty
Kaye
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
he
agreed
,
"
you
're
right
.
I
would
n't
have
liked
it
.
Still
,
it
's
hard
to
be
made
a
cynic
at
twenty
.
"
"
I
was
born
one
,
"
Amory
murmured
.
"
I
'm
a
cynical
idealist
.
"
He
paused
and
wondered
if
that
meant
anything
.
