George stirred. How long would the music and the laughter continue to drift in?
"Why?"
"You've travelled a long way," Lambert mused. "I wonder if in football clothes men don't look too much of a pattern. I wonder if you haven't let yourself be carried a little too far."
"Why?" George asked again.
"Princeton and football," Lambert went on, "are well enough in their way; but when you come to a place like this and dance with those girls who don't know, it seems scarcely fair. Of course, if they knew, and wanted you still—that's the whole point."
"They wouldn't," George admitted, "but why should they matter if the people that count know?"
Lambert glanced at him. Was the music's quicker measure prophetic of the end?
"What do you mean?" Lambert asked.
"What you said last fall has worried me," George answered. "That's the reason I came here—so that your sister would know me from Adam. She does, and she can do what she pleases about it. It's in her hands now."
Lambert reddened.