He said it calmly, with a little sadness. The three were impressed with the finality of the judgment. Story, standing with the cast-off pin in his hand, turning and twisting it, said slowly:
"Dink, do you really mean it?"
"I do."
"It's a serious thing you're doing, Stover," said Le Baron, with the first touch of formality, "and I don't think it should be done in anger."
"I'm not."
"Remember that you are judging a whole society—your own friends—by what one man happened to say to you in a moment of irritation."
"I don't want to talk of what's done," said Stover slowly, for his head was throbbing. "I know myself, and I know nothing is going to make me go back on what I've said. I'm only going to say a word, and then I'm going into my room and going to bed. Le Baron"—with a sudden rise of his voice he turned and faced the junior—"don't think I don't understand what it means that I'm giving up. I get what you mean when you start in calling me Stover. I know as well as I'm standing here that you and Reynolds will keep me out of Bones, whether I make captain or not. And that'll hurt me a good bit—I admit it. Now don't let's quibble. It isn't the way Reynolds said what he did—though that did rile me—it's what was told me, indirectly or directly—it's the same thing; you men in sophomore societies would limit my freedom of choice. There you are. I'm against you now, because for the first time I see how the thing works out, because you're wrong! You're a bad influence for those who are in, and a rotten influence for the whole college. Now I've made up my mind to just one thing. I'm going to finish up here at the head of my own business—my own master; and I'm not going to be in a position to be told by any one in your class or my class what I'm to do."
"One moment." Le Baron rose as Stover moved towards the bedroom. "There's another side to it."