The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best fiction books to read TXT) 📕

Her. Don'T Know Why--Just Did.... Oh,  Hell! What'S The Use Of Going

Into Details? You Can Guess What Happened."

Hugh Sat Suddenly Erect. "You Didn'T--"

Carl Stood Up And Stretched. "Yeah," He Yawned,  "I Did It. Lots Of Times

Afterwards."

Hugh Was Dazed. He Didn'T Know What To Think. For An Instant He Was

Shocked,  And Then He Was Envious. "Wonder If Janet Would Have Gone The

Whole Way," Flitted Across His Mind. He Instantly Dismissed The

Question; He Felt That It Wasn'T Fair To Janet. But Carl? Gosh!

Carl Yawned Again. "Great Stuff," He Said Nonchalantly. "Sleepy As Hell.

Guess I'Ll Hit The Hay." He Eyed Hugh Suspiciously. "You Aren'T Shocked,

Are You? You Don'T Think I'M A Moral Leper Or Anything Like That?" He

Attempted To Be Light But Wasn'T Altogether Successful.

"Of Course Not." Hugh Denied The Suggestion Vehemently,  And Yet Down In

His Heart He Felt A Keen Disappointment. He Hardly Knew Why He Was

Disappointed,  But He Was. "Going To Bed?" He Asked As Casually As He

Could.

"Yeah. Good Night."

"Good Night,  Old Man."

Each Boy Went To His Own Bedroom,  Hugh To Go To Bed And Think Carl'S

Story Over. It Thrilled Him,  And He Envied Carl,  And Yet--And Yet He

Wished Carl Hadn'T Done It. It Made Him And Carl Different--Sorta Not

The Same; No That Wasn'T It. He Didn'T Know Just What The Trouble Was,

But There Was A Sharp Sting Of Disillusionment That Hurt. He Would Have

Been More Confused Had He Known What Was Happening In carl'S Room.

Carl Had Walked Into His Own Bedroom,  Lighted The Light,  And Closed The

Door. Then He Walked To The Dresser And Stared At Himself In The Mirror,

Stared A Long Time As If The Face Were Somehow New To Him.

There Was A Picture Of The "Old Lady" On The Dresser. It Caught His Eye,

And He Flinched. It Seemed To Look At Him Reproachfully. He Thought Of

His Mother,  And He Thought Of How He Had Bluffed Hugh. He Had Cried

After His First Experience With The Girl.

He Looked Again Into The Mirror. "You Goddamn Hypocrite," He Said

Softly; "You Goddamn Hypocrite." His Lip Curled In contempt At His

Image.

He Began To Undress Rapidly. The Eyes Of The "Old Lady" In The Picture

Seemed To Follow Him Around The Room. The Thought Of Her Haunted Him.

Desperately,  He Switched Out The Light.

Once In bed,  He Rolled Over On His Stomach And Buried His Face In The

Pillow. "God!" He Whispered. "God!"

Sanford Defeated Raleigh This Year In Football,  And For A Time The

College Was Wild With Excitement And Delight. Most Of The Free Lumber In

Haydensville Was Burned In a TA

Charming And Interesting Picture. A Replica By Sir J. Reynolds,  The

Property Of Lord Cadogan,  Is At Chelsea House.

The Other Group Was Of A Younger Generation,  More Brilliant And More

Modern. They Might Not Inappropriately Be Called The Fox Group,

Since His Personality Was So Conspicuous Among Them. They Talked

Politics And Gambled At Brooks'S,  They Appreciated Each Other'S

Brightness,  And Lost Their Money With The Indifference Of True

Friends. There Was The Gallant And Charming Soldier Fitzpatrick,  The

Schoolfellow And Friend Of Fox,  The Sagacious And Versatile But

Place-Seeking Storer. Hare,  Who,  Less Well-Born,  Had Risen By His

Wit And Talents To A Place Among The Cleverest Men Of The Time,  "The

Hare With Many Friends," As He Was Called By The Duchess Of Gordon.

Frederick,  Earl Of Carlisle And Crawford,  The "Petit Craufurt" Of

Mme. Du Deffand; And Chief Of All Was Charles Fox,  Who To Selwyn Was

Incomprehensible. Selwyn Had Been His Father'S Friend,  And Had Known

Him From Childhood. He Loved Him And Liked His Companionship; Yet

His Unrestrained Folly At The Gambling-Table And On The Racecourse,

His Loose Ideas On Money Matters,  And His Political Opinions,  At

Times Annoyed,  Irritated,  And Puzzled Him Almost Beyond Endurance.

With The Older And The Younger Group Selwyn Was On The Same Terms Of

Intimate Friendship: Now Pleasing By His Wit,  And Now Helping By His

Kindness And Common Sense.

Castle Howard Was The Place,  Outside London,  Which Most Attracted

Him. It Is Even To-Day A Long Way From The Metropolis,  And One Feels

Something Like Surprise That Such A Lover Of The Town As Selwyn

Could,  Even To The End Of His Life,  Undertake The Tiresome Journey

To Yorkshire. But In The Stately Galleries Of Vanbrugh'S Design He

Renewed His Associations With France. There He Was Not Bored By

Country Society; In The Home Circle He Had All The Company He

Needed. He Could Look Out Over The Rolling Uplands And See The

Distant Wolds,  Contented To Observe And Enjoy Them From Afar Amidst

The Books And Pictures Which His Host Had Collected. If He Wanted

Exercise The Spacious Gardens Were At Hand,  And The Artificial

Adornment Of Temples And Statuary Pleased A Taste Highly Cultivated

After The Fashion Of The Times.

In A Drawing-Room Selwyn Was As Welcome As In a Club,  And He Could

Only Be Said To Be Out Of Place In His Own Country House,  More

Especially At The Time Of An Election For Gloucester. The Modern

Love Of Landscape,  Of Country Life As An Aesthetic Pleasure,  Was

Unknown To Him. Civilisation,  Refinement,  Seemed To Him To Be

Confined To London And Paris,  To Bath Or Tunbridge Wells. "Now Sto

Per Partire,  And I Ought In Point Of Discretion To Set Out

To-Morrow,  But I Dare Say 'Twill Be Friday Evening Before I'Ll Have

The Courage To Throw Myself Off The Cart. But Then Go I Must; For On

Monday Our Assizes Begin,  And How Long I Shall Stay The Lord Knows,

But I Hope In God Not More Than Ten Days At Farthest,  For I Find My

Aversion To That Part Of The World Greater And More Insufferable

Every Day Of My Life,  And Indeed Have No Wish To Be Absent From Home

But To Go To Castle Howard,  Which I Hope That I Shall Not Delay Many

Days After My Return From Gloucestershire" (August,  1774). A Week

Later He Had Arrived At His Home. "The Weather Is Very Fine,  And

Matson In as Great Beauty As A Place Can Be In,  But The Beauties Of

It Make Very Little Impression Upon Me; In Short,  There Is Nothing

In The Eccentric Situation In Which I Am Now That Can Afford Me The

Least Pleasure,  And Everything I Love To See In The World Is At A

Distance From Me" (August 9,  1774).

To-Day Such A Man As Selwyn Would Have Had A Choice Collection Of

Water Colours; He Would Be Ashamed If He Could Not Appreciate The

Tone And Tenderness Of An English Landscape. But Though A Friend Of

Reynolds And Of Romney,  Though He Commissioned And Appreciated

Gainsborough,  And Valued The Masterpieces Of The Past,  In a Word,

Was Essentially A Man Of Culture,  Yet This Phase Of Modern

Refinement Was Utterly Unknown To Him. He Ran His Fingers

Through His Hair Until It Stood Grotesquely On End. "Oh,  That'S The Old

Argument. I'Ve Heard It Debated In a Hundred Bull Sessions. One Fellow

Says It'S All Wrong,  And Another Fellow Says It'S All Right,  And You

Never Get Anywhere. I Want Somebody To Tell Me What'S Wrong About It And

What'S Right. God Knows You Don'T Find Out In Your Classes. They Have

Doc Conners Give Those Smut Talks To Us In Our Freshman Year,  And A

Devil Of A Lot Of Good They Do. A Bunch Of Fellows Faint And Have To Be

Lugged Out,  And The Doc Gives You Some Sickening Details About Venereal

Diseases,  And That'S As Far As You Get. Now,  I'M All Messed Up About

This Sex Business,  And I'Ll Admit That I'M Thinking About It All The

Time,  Too. Some Fellows Say It'S All Right To Have A Woman,  And Some

Fellows Say It'S All Wrong,  But I Notice None Of Them Have Any Use For A

Woman Who Isn'T Straight."

All Of The Boys Were Sitting In easy-Chairs Except Donald Ferguson,  Who

Was Lying On The Couch And Listening In Silence. He Was A Handsome Youth

With Scotch Blue Eyes And Sandy Hair. Women Were Instantly Attracted By

His Good Looks,  Splendid Physique,  Slow Smile,  And Quiet Drawl.

He Spoke For The First Time. "The Old Single-Standard Fight," He Said,

Propping His Head On His Hand. "I Don'T See Any Sense In Scrapping About

That Any More. We'Ve Got A Single Standard Now. The Girls Go Just As

Fast As The Fellows."

"Oh,  That'S Not So," Hugh Exclaimed. "Girls Don'T Go As Far As Fellows."

Ferguson Smiled Pleasantly At Hugh And Drawled; "Shut Up,  Innocent; You

Don'T Know Anything About It. I Tell You The Old Double Standard Has

Gone All To Hell."

"You'Re Exaggerating,  Don,  Just To Get Hugh Excited," Ross Said In His

Quiet Way. "There Are Plenty Of Decent Girls. Just Because A Lot Of Them

Pet On All Occasions Isn'T Any Reason To Say That They Aren'T Straight.

I'M Older Than You Fellows,  And I Guess I'Ve Had A Lot More Experience

Than Most Of You. I'Ve Had To Make My Own Way Since I Was A Kid,  And

I'Ve Bumped Up Against A Lot Of Rough Customers. I Worked In a Lumber

Camp For A Year,  And After You'Ve Been With A Gang Like That For A

While,  You'Ll Understand The Difference Between Them And College

Fellows. Those Boys Are Bad Eggs. They Just Haven'T Any Morals,  That'S

All. They Turn Into Beasts Every Pay Night; And Bad As Some Of Our

College Parties Are,  They Aren'T A Circumstance To A Lumber Town On Pay

Night."

"That'S No Argument," George Winsor Said Excitedly,