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The Quest at Princeton For the Cocktail Soul

The other heads abruptly part and there is suddenly only one single scowling face. The president of the sophomore class.

"Are you from the Harvard CRIMSON?"

"Yes."

"The ICC has voted the press completely barred here tonight. I'll have to ask you to leave."

"I'm not from the PRINCETONIAN, you know. I have nothing to with the University."

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"I know that. But you'll have to leave."

"Why?"

"I'm not at liberty to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Get out."

Someone standing nearby begins to shout:

"If it weren't for you damn newspaper guys, we wouldn't have this mess. These people wouldn't even be here tonight."

He has on a green and yellow striped tie. Ivy man. He's right: they'd be in Prospect.

A gust of cold air, the door slams, locks, and back out again in the twelve-degree biting night wind.

'Cagers'

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