"And you're just taking a little rest before offering yourself around?"
He shook his head. "I'm through. Kaput. Harry, I just can't stand baseball. It's a silly, stupid game. You know how many times I had to stand out there in baggy knickers and throw a bit of horsehide at some jerk with a club in his paws? A hundred, hundred-fifty times a game, every four days. For what? What the hell does it all mean? Why should I bother?"
There was a strange gleam in his eyes. I said, "Have you told Mother?"
"I don't dare! She thinks I'm on leave, or something. Harry, how can I tell her—"
"I know." Briefly, I told him of my own disenchantment with history. We were mutually delighted to learn that we were not alone in our affliction. I picked up my suitcases, scrambled up the steps, and went inside.
Dewey was cleaning up the common room as I passed through. He nodded hello glumly. I said, "How's the tooth trade?"
He whirled and glared at me viciously.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"I've been accepted by four dental schools, Harry."
"Is that any cause for misery?"