The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

Try To Stop Her?"

Norry Smiled. "Of Course Not. Can You Imagine Me Stopping Cynthia From

Doing Anything She Wanted To Do? But I Did Have A Talk With Her. She Got

Hold Of Me One Night At The Country Club And Pulled Me Off In A Corner.

She Wanted To Talk About You."

"Me?" Hugh's Heart Was Beginning To Pound. "What Did She Say?"

"She Asked Questions. She Wanted To Know Everything About You. I Guess

She Asked Me A Thousand Questions. She Wanted To Know How You Looked,

How You Were Doing In Your Courses,  Where You Were During Vacation,  If

You Had A Girl--Oh,  Everything; And Finally She Asked If You Ever Talked

About Her?"

"What Did You Say?" Hugh Demanded Breathlessly.

"I Told Her Yes,  Of Course. Gee,  Hugh,  I Thought She Was Going To Cry.

We Talked Some More,  All About You. She's Crazy About You,  Hugh; I'm

Sure Of It. And I Think That's Why She's Been Hitting The High Spots. I

Felt Sorry As The Devil For Her. Poor Kid...."

"Gee,  That's Tough; That's Damn Tough. Did She Send Me Any Message?"

"No. I Asked Her If She Wanted To Send Her Love Or Anything,  And She

Said She Guessed Not. I Think She's Having An Awful Time,  Hugh."

That Talk Tore Hugh's Peace Of Mind Into Quivering Shreds. Cynthia Was

With Him Every Waking Minute,  And With Her A Sense Of Guilt That Would

Not Down. He Knew That If He Wrote To Her He Might Involve Himself In A

Very Difficult Situation,  But The Temptation Was Stronger Than His

Discretion. He Wanted To Know If Norry Was Right,  And He Knew That He

Would Never Have An Hour's Real Comfort Until He Found Out. Cynthia Had

Told Him That She Was Not In Love With Him; She Had Said Definitely

That Their Attraction For Each Other Was Merely Sexual. Had She Lied To

Him? Had She Gone Home In The Middle Of Prom,  Week Because She Thought

She Ought To Save Him From Herself? He Couldn't Decide,  And He Felt That

He Had To Know. If Cynthia Was Unhappy And He Was The Cause Of Her

Unhappiness,  He Wanted,  He Assured Himself,  To "Do The Right Thing," And

He Had Very Vague Notions Indeed Of What The Right Thing Might Be.

Finally He Wrote To Her. The Letter Took Him Hours To Write,  But He

Flattered Himself That It Was Very Discreet; It Implied Nothing And

Demanded Nothing.

       Dear Cynthia:

       I Had A Talk With Norry Parker Recently That Has

       Troubled Me A Great Deal. He Said That You Seemed Both

       Unwell And Unhappy,  And He Felt That I Was In Some Way

       Responsible For Your Depression. Of Course,  We Both Know

       How Ingenuous And Romantic Norry Is; He Can Find Tragedy

       In A Cut Finger. I Recognize That Fact,  But What He Told

       Me Has Given Me No End Of Worry Just The Same.

       Won't You Please Write To Me Just What Is Wrong--If

       Anything Really Is And If I Have Anything To Do With It.

       I Shall Continue To Worry Until I Get Your Letter.

                                    Most Sincerely,

                                                     Hugh.

Weeks Went By And No Answer Came. Hugh's Confusion Increased. He

Thought Of Writing Her Another Letter,  But Pride And Common Sense

Forbade. Then Her Letter Came,  And All Of His Props Were Kicked Suddenly

From Under Him.

         Oh My Dear,  My Dear [She Wrote],  I Swore That I Wouldn't

       Answer Your Letter--And Here I Am Doing It. I've Fought

       And Fought,  And Fought Until I Can't Fight Any Longer;

       I've Held Out As Long As I Can. Oh,  Hugh My Dearest,  I

       Love You. I Can't Help It--I Do,  I Do. I've Tried So

       Hard Not To--And When I Found That I Couldn't Help It I

       Swore That I Would Never Let You Know--Because I Knew

       That You Didn't Love Me And That I Am Bad For You. I

       Thought I Loved You Enough To Give You Up--And I Might

       Have Succeeded If You Hadn't Written To Me.

       Oh,  Hugh Dearest,  I Nearly Fainted When I Saw Your

       Letter. I Hardly Dared Open It--I Just Looked And Looked

       At Your Beloved Handwriting. I Cried When I Did Read It.

       I Thought Of The Letters You Used To Write To Me--And

       This One Was So Different--So Cold And Impersonal. It

       Hurt Me Dreadfully.

       I Said That I Wouldn't Answer It--I Swore That I

       Wouldn't. And Then I Read Your Old Letters--I've Kept

       Every One Of Them--And Looked At Your Picture--And

       To-Night You Just Seemed To Be Here--I Could See Your

       Sweet Smile And Feel Your Dear Arms Around Me--And Hugh,

       My Darling,  I Had To Write--I _Had_ To.

       My Pride Is All Gone. I Can't Think Any More. You Are

       All That Matters. Oh,  Hugh Dearest,  I Love You So Damned

       Hard.

                                                Cynthia.

Two Hours After The Letter Arrived It Was Followed By A Telegram:

       Don't Pay Any Attention To My Letter. I Was Crazy When I

       Wrote It.

Hugh Had Sense Enough To Pay No Attention To The Telegram; He Tossed It

Into The Fireplace And Reread The Letter. What Could He Do? What

_Should_ He Do? He Was Torn By Doubt And Confusion. He Looked At Her

Picture,  And All His Old Longing For Her Returned. But He Had Learned To

Distrust That Longing. He Had Got Along For A Year Without Her; He Had

Almost Ceased Thinking Of Her When Norry Brought Her Back To His Mind.

He Had To Answer Her Letter. What Could He Say? He Paced The Floor Of

His Room,  Ran His Hands Through His Hair,  Pounded His Forehead; But No

Solution Came. He Took A Long Walk Into The Country And Came Back More

Confused Than Ever. He Was Flattered By Her Letter,  Moved By It; He

Tried To Persuade Himself That He Loved Her As She Loved Him--And He

Could Not Do It. His Passion For Her Was No Longer Overpowering,  And No

Amount Of Thinking Could Make It So. In The End He Temporized. His

Letter Was Brief.

       Dear Cynthia:

       There Is No Need,  I Guess,  To Tell You That Your Letter

       Swept Me Clean Off My Feet. I Am Still Dizzy With

       Confusion. I Don't Know What To Say,  And I Have Decided

       That It Is Best For Me Not To Say Anything Until I Know

       My Own Mind. I Couldn't Be Fair Either To You Or Myself

       Otherwise. And I Want To Be Fair; I Must Be.

       Give Me Time,  Please. It Is Because I Care So Much For

       You That I Ask It. Don't Worry If You Don't Hear From Me

       For Weeks. My Silence Won't Mean That I Have Forgotten

       You; It Will Mean That I Am Thinking Of You.

                                Sincerely,

                                                Hugh.

Her Answer Came Promptly:

       Hugh,  My Dear--

       I Was A Fish To Write That Letter--And I Know That I'll

       Never Forgive Myself. But I Couldn't Help It--I Just

       Couldn't Help It. I Am Glad That You Are Keeping Your

       Head Because I've Lost Mine Entirely. Take All The Time

       You Like. Do You Hate Me For Losing My Pride? I Do.

                                Your Stupid

                                                Cynthia.

Weeks Went By,  And Hugh Found No Solution. He Damned College With All

His Heart And Soul. What Good Had It Done Him Anyway? Here He Was With A

Serious Problem On His Hands And He Couldn't Solve It Any Better Than He

Could Have When He Was A Freshman. Four Years Of Studying And Lectures

And Examinations,  And The First Time He Bucked Up Against A Bit Of Life

He Was Licked.

Eventually He Wrote To Her And Told Her That He Was Fonder Of Her Than

He Was Of Any Girl That He Had Ever Known But That He Didn't Know

Whether He Was In Love With Her Or Not. "I Have Learned To Distrust My

Own Emotions," He Wrote,  "And My Own Decisions. The More I Think The

More Bewildered I Become. I Am Afraid To Ask You To Marry Me For Fear

That I'll Wreck Both Our Lives,  And I'm Afraid Not To Ask You For The

Same Reason. Do You Think That Time Will Solve Our Problem? I Don't

Know. I Don't Know Anything."

She Replied That She Was Willing To Wait Just So Long As They Continued

To Correspond; She Said That She Could No Longer Bear Not To Hear From

Him. So They Wrote To Each Other,  And The Tangle Of Their Relations

Became More Hopelessly Knotted. Cynthia Never Sent Another Letter So

Unguarded As Her First,  But She Made No Pretense Of Hiding Her Love.

As Hugh Sank Deeper And Deeper Into The Bog Of Confusion And Distress,

His Contempt For His College "Education" Increased. One Night In May He

Expressed That Contempt To A Small Group Of Seniors.

"College Is Bunk," Said Hugh Sternly,  "Pure Bunk. They Tell Us That We

Learn To Think. Rot! I Haven't Learned To Think; A Child Can Solve A

Simple Human Problem As Well As I Can. College Has Played Hell With Me.

I Came Here Four Years Ago A Darned Nice Kid,  If I Do Say So Myself. I

Was Chock-Full Of Ideals And Illusions. Well,  College Has Smashed Most

Of Those Ideals And Knocked The Illusions Plumb To Hell. I Thought,  For

Example,  That All College Men Were Gentlemen; Well,  Most Of Them Aren't.

I Thought That All Of Them Were Intelligent And Hard Students."

The Group Broke Into Loud Laughter. "Me,  Too," Said George Winsor When

The Noise Had Abated. "I Thought That I Was Coming To A Regular

Educational Heaven,  Halls Of Learning And All That Sort Of Thing. Why,

It's A Farce. Here I Am Sporting A Phi Bete Key,  An Honor Student If You

Please,  And All That I Really Know As A Result Of My College 'Education'

Is The Fine Points Of Football And How To Play Poker. I Don't Really

Know One Damn Thing About Anything."

The Other Men Were Jack Lawrence And Pudge Jamieson. Jack Was An Earnest

Chap,  Serious And Hard Working But Without A Trace Of Brilliance. He,

Too,  Wore A Phi Beta Kappa Key,  And So Did Pudge. Hugh Was The Only One

Of The Group Who Had Not Won That Honor; The Fact That He Was The Only

One Who Had Won A Letter Was Hardly,  He Felt,  Complete Justification.

His Legs No Longer Seemed More Important Than His Brains; In Fact,  When

He Had Sprained A Tendon And Been Forced To Drop Track,  He Had Been

Genuinely Pleased.

Pudge Was Quite As Plump As He Had Been As A Freshman And Quite As

Jovial,  But He Did Not Tell So Many Smutty Stories. He Still Persisted

In Crossing His Knees In Spite Of The Difficulties Involved. When

Winsor Finished Speaking,  Pudge Forced His Legs Into His Favorite

Position For Them And Then Twinkled At Winsor Through His Glasses.

"Right You Are,  George," He Said In His Quick Way. "I Wear A Phi Bete

Key,  Too. We Both Belong To The World's Greatest Intellectual

Fraternity,  But What In Hell Do We Know? We've All Majored In English

Except Jack,  And I'll Bet Any One Of Us Can Give The Others An Exam

Offhand That They Can't Pass. I'm Going To Law School. I Hope To God

That I Learn Something There. I Certainly Don't Feel That I Know

Anything Now As A Result Of My Four Years Of 'Higher Education.'"

"Well,  If You Fellows Feel That Way," Said Hugh Mournfully,  "How Do You

Suppose I Feel? I Made My First Really Good Record Last Term,  And That

Wasn't Any World Beater. I've Learned How To Gamble And Smoke And Drink

And Pet In College,  But That's About All That I Have Learned. I'm Not As

Fine As I Was When I Came Here. I've Been Coarsened And Cheapened; All

Of Us Have. I Take Things For Granted That Shocked Me Horribly Once. I

Know That They Ought To Shock Me Now,  But They Don't. I've Made Some

Friends And I've Had A Wonderfuh The Clay Peacock_.)

_First Woman_. Look,  All-Tamer. Here Is The Bird,  The _Shakunta_.

Isn't The _Shakunta_ Lovely?

_Boy_ (_Looks About_). Where Is My Mamma? (_The Two Women Burst Out

Laughing_.)

_First Woman_. It Sounded Like Her Name,  And Deceived Him. He Loves

His Mother.

_Second Woman_. She Said: "See How Pretty The Peacock Is." That Is

All.

_King_ (_To Himself_). His Mother's Name Is Shakuntala! But Names Are

Alike. I Trust This Hope May Not Prove A Disappointment In The End,

Like A Mirage.

_Boy_. I Like This Little Peacock,  Sister. Can It Fly? (_He Seizes The

Toy_.) _First Woman_ (_Looks At The Boy. Anxiously_),  Oh,