“They know I'm your cousin. It's hurting my reputation.”
A faint ironic smile touched Jeff's face. “No, James, I'm helping it. Ever notice how blondes and brunettes chum together. Value of contrasts, you see. I'm a moral brunette. You're a shining example of all a man should be. I simply emphasize your greatness.”
“That's not the way it works,” his cousin grumbled.
“That's just how it works. Best thing that could happen to you would be for me to get expelled. Shall I?”
Jeff offered his suggestion debonairly.
“Of course not.”
“It would give you just the touch of halo you need to finish the picture. Think of it: your noble head bowed in grief because of the unworthy relative you had labored so hard to save; the sympathy of the faculty, the respect of the fellows, the shy adoration of the co-eds. Great Brutus bowed by the sorrow of a strong man's unrepining emotion. By Jove, I ought to give you the chance. You'd look the part to admiration.”
For a moment James saw himself in the role and coveted it. Jeff read his thought, and his laughter brought his cousin back to earth. He had the irritated sense of having been caught.
“It's not an occasion for talking nonsense,” he said coldly.
Jeff sensed his disgrace in the stiff politeness of the professors and in the embarrassed aloofness of his classmates. Some of the men frankly gave him a wide berth as if he had been a moral pervert.