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THE CRIME

THE QUIET HOUR

Hi Bill! How's things? Saving this place? Yeah, I don't eat much at noon. Look out--sorry...Well, why the hell don't you look where you're going? Oh...Jees, look at my sleeve. Chocolate milk all over it. Sure, I do. The litle shrimp sits in front of me in French. I'll joggle his chair, absentminded, tomorrow. Yeh, we got an exam. You can drive a guy nuts that way. You can drive a guy--sure, it does. Just scrape.

No. we don't. We have Napoleon. No. That's his name. Can't talk English yet. I don't think his French's so good either. He sort of sings along and then he pops out Ow ould you zay tzrow eet eenzo low tzear. Yeah, just like that. Throw it into low gear, he meant. What do they get guys like that for? The class horses him all the time. You know Al? He's on pro, but he never comes to class, I just answer Here for him and Nap doesn't know the difference.

That squash pie? They make it lousy here. Fifteen cents? Why you can get a bigger piece at the Georgian for a dime. Yeah, a lot bigger. Better, too. This here tastes like oatmeal. Don't you eat there any more? I used to, too. The fellow got sore one time, though. I was balancing a glass of milk on my knife blade and it spilled all over somebody's lap and they kicked.

Wonder if I could do it with a paper cup. Yeah, a paper cup. Steady. Whoops! There, easy as anything. Look out. That's too bad. Lucky you got on the old topcoat, Bill. Sure, that'll come out all right. If it doesn't take it over to the Chem lab. Sure they will. They teach you how in Chem A. Ever take that, Bill? Yes, over in Boylston. When we were Freshmen. We used to make salt, too. Twenty-five grams impure they gave you. No, they don't test your stuff. I got nine grams yield and the rest from the Dining Halls. B plus. It's a cinch. Yeah, mine too. The thing got all clogged up with salt and the whole lab almost choked.

No, course not. Why should they tear it down? Well, the inside. Didya see the red all over the snow? Thought it was a murder for a while. But Al says it's methyl orange. Butter-coloring. Guess that's what they use here...

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The Yale boys got real taste, though. They like if, the best poem. If, Kipling, you know. They can read, too. They voted for the Post. No, the Saturday Evening. I read that thing too. The guy's crazy. I said he's crazy. Like every Harvard man calling every one a guy. He must've stayed at the Liberal Club. No, I never. The cook's Russian. Liable to go nuts and blow the place up. They do that in Russia.

They did in The Red Dance? Didya see it? No, in the afternoon, it only costs a quarter then. Sure she still works there. Sa-ay, she's smooth! But a big boy in a Cadillac calls for her every night. No, but Al tried. He drove up in front with his Chevy one time and blew the horn until the manager got a cop. Guess he was afraid of another riot. We students just don't have any riots. Didye get that one? It's a good pun. Well, even Kitty says puns are O. K. and he's a pundit. All right. I'll shut up.

Say, this custard's awful junk. He said bring it back if it wasn't right. No, I can't now. I forgot and ate it all. Well, that's just another he's gypped today.

Already Bill? Yeah, a one o'clock.

Where's my check? I always keep it in the left pocket. It's easy to find then. Must have dropped it. Sure, here it is.

Sorry to make you bust this ten, kiddo.

Sixty cents? I beg YOUR pardon. Huh? Bill that guy swapped checks on me. That's all right, he'll get it in the neck tomorrow. In French. We got a rotten section man, did I tell you?

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