"I'm awfully ashamed of myself, old man," Hugh began. "I—I don't know what to say. I can't remember much what happened. I remember bringing Cynthia up here and you coming in and then—well, I somehow can't remember anything after that. What did you do?"
"I took Cynthia home and then came back and put you to bed." Norry gazed at the floor and spoke softly.
"You took Cynthia home?"
"Of course."
Hugh stared at him in awe. "But if you'd been seen with her in the dorm, you'd have been fired from college."
"Nobody saw us. It's all right."
Hugh wanted to cry. "Oh, Lord, Norry, you're white," he exclaimed. "The whitest fellow that ever lived. You took that chance for me."
"That's all right." Norry was painfully embarrassed.
"And I'm such a rotter. You—you know what we came up here for?"
"I can guess." Norry's glance still rested on the floor. He spoke hardly above a whisper.