"I'm afraid you'll not want to do it even then," he said pleasantly. "You understand this bench--the C bench we call it--is for men; any man above a freshman."
Kate gathered the hardihood to ask:--
"But why is it for men, please?"
"I don't know why. We men took it, I suppose." He wasn't inclined to apologize apparently; he seemed to think that if the men wanted it they had a right to it.
"This bench was given to the men, perhaps?" she persisted, not knowing how to move away.
"No," admitted the young man; "I don't believe it was. It was presented to the University by a senior class."
"A class of men?"
"Naturally not. A graduating class is composed of men and women. C bench," he explained, "is the center of activities. It's where the drum is beaten to call a mass meeting, and the boys gather here when they've anything to talk over. There's no law against women sitting here, you know. Only they never do. It isn't--oh, I hardly know how to put it--it isn't just the thing--"
"Can't you break away, McCrea?" some one called.
The youth threw a withering glance in the direction of the speaker.