The young lady smiled bewitchingly, and the two got up and walked in Vag's direction. The Princeton--true to the Nassau type, a man of hypercontinental suavity--had already wrapped his arm around the other female's waist and was whisking her towards the Charles.

"To think I lived here as a freshman. No end to poor taste," Vag observed sadly. As he did so, the Yale and his aquisition approached him on the walk. The Yale casually shouldered Vag to one side and strode past.

"Ha! What a weenie," he sneered to the girl, giving a powerfully superior smile in Vag's direction.

Vag shrugged his shoulders and continued toward Lamont.

During the regular year, Vag kept his distance from this imposing mass of bricks and books. After his first few weeks of studying there as a freshman, the combination of harsh lights, 50-cent fines and unattractive people had driven him out, and he had never gone back.

Now, as he passed the hideous front windows, Vag thought that Lamont served the Summer School right. By the end of the summer, all the Delilahs studying in there would learn to hate it as he had.

Vag looked up the New Yorker and found the story. It concerned an improbable couple named Elgin and Caroline, telling how they fell in love and later indulged themselves libidinously in Adams House. The story was subtly and liberally sprinkled with naked bodies, passionate embraces and the like. Vag could not bring himself to finish it, so he looked at the ending and put the magazine down.

After yawning several times, he left Lamont and headed back towards the Crimson building. It was a lovely night--warm, starry and quiet--just the kind of night on which Vag used to sit down by the Charles and assimilate the poetry of the city.

But he knew that he would not be comfortable in his old spot tonight and decided to repair to the Crimson rooftop instead. After a few minutes there, Vag knew it was no use. Slowly, he headed back to the car.

"Hmm, a weenie. Imagine that," Vag mused sadly as he drove down Mem Drive toward Boston.