Two Winthrop House gentlemen were a great deal less anxious to see the recent exam period come to a close than most students. In a rash moment they had sworn mighty oaths to stop smoking on the day of their last exams--a promise which both of them, being inveterate smokers, found difficult to keep. But, being men of determination, they were observing the unwelcome vows under which they labored when they met for dinner last night.

Both waded through the menu with vigor. Sure helps the appetite, one observed. Yeh, and breaks up a cold quickly too when your lungs aren't all congested, added the other. They paused after their coffee and stared at one another intently. You're looking better, said the one. Yes, and you look healthier, too, agreed his partner, glancing at a friend blowing smoke rings at the next table. The other looked too. Yes, it's better this way, he said without conviction. They exchanged understanding looks.

The only trouble with it all, lamented the healthy-looking one, is that I don't feel so good. Same here, moaned the one who was looking better, in fact I feel like hell. So together they hailed a passing waitress for a tobacco slip.