Very glad," says Oliver in a low voice.
"I can stand it. I was awful afraid I couldn't when I first got back. And
law interests me, really, though I've lost three years because of the war.
And I'm working like a pious little devil with a new assortment of damned
and when you haven't any money you can't go on parties in New York unless
you raise gravy riding to a fine art. Only sometimes--well, you know how it
is--"
Oliver nods.
"I'll be sitting there, at night especially, in that little tin Tophet of a
room on Madison Avenue, working. I _can_ work, if I do say it myself--I'm
hoping to get through with school in January, now. But it gets pretty
lonely, sometimes when there's nobody to run into that you can really talk
to--the people I used to play with in College are out of New York for the
summer--even Peter's down at Southampton most of the time or out at
Star Bay--you're in Melgrove--Sam Woodward's married and working in
Chicago--Brick Turner's in New Mexico--I've dropped out of the Wall Street
bunch in the class that hang out at the Yale Club--I'm posted there
anyhow, and besides they've all made money and I haven't, and all they want
to talk about is puts and calls.
Pages:
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28