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           "Lookhere!"

           Tomemittedalowwhistle.

           "Whathityou?"

           Amorylaughedagain.

           "Oh,alotofpeople.Igotbeatenup.Fact."Heslowlyreplacedhisshirt."ItwasboundtocomesoonerorlaterandIwouldn’thavemisseditforanything."

           "Whowasit?"

           "Well,thereweresomewaitersandacoupleofsailorsandafewstraypedestrians,Iguess.It’sthestrangestfeeling.Yououghttogetbeatenupjustfortheexperienceofit.Youfalldownafterawhileandeverybodysortofslashesinatyoubeforeyouhittheground—thentheykickyou."

           Tomlightedacigarette.

           "Ispentadaychasingyouallovertown,Amory.Butyoualwayskeptalittleaheadofme.I’dsayyou’vebeenonsomeparty."

           Amorytumbledintoachairandaskedforacigarette.

           "Yousobernow?"askedTomquizzically.

           "Prettysober.Why?"

           "Well,Alechasleft.Hisfamilyhadbeenafterhimtogohomeandlive,sohe—"

           AspasmofpainshookAmory.

           "Toobad."

           "Yes,itistoobad.We’llhavetogetsomeoneelseifwe’regoingtostayhere.Therent’sgoingup."

           "Sure.Getanybody.I’llleaveittoyou,Tom."

           Amorywalkedintohisbedroom.ThefirstthingthatmethisglancewasaphotographofRosalindthathehadintendedtohaveframed,proppedupagainstamirroronhisdresser.Helookedatitunmoved.Afterthevividmentalpicturesofherthatwerehisportionatpresent,theportraitwascuriouslyunreal.Hewentbackintothestudy.

           "Gotacardboardbox?"

           "No,"answeredTom,puzzled.