“Oh, just come here, Skinny; get on to this, will you?  Ah, come here and look, you old chump!  Do you think they’re nice girls?  Just take a look at them.”  Vandover peered timidly around Geary’s head and saw that the two girls were looking back and laughing, and that the one with the red cape was waving it at them.

At supper that night they saw the girls in the gallery of Memorial.  They pointed them out to young Haight, and Geary at length managed to attract their attention.  After supper the three freshmen, together with two of their sophomore acquaintances, strolled slowly over toward the Yard, lighting their pipes and cigarettes.  All at once, as they turned into the lower gate, they came full upon the same pair of girls.  They were walking fast, talking and laughing very loudly.

“Track!” called out one of the sophomores, and the group of young fellows parted to let them pass.  The sophomore exclaimed in a tone of regret, “Don’t be in such a hurry, girls.”  Vandover became scarlet and turned his face away, but the girls looked back and laughed good-naturedly.  “Come on,” said the sophomore.  The group closed around the girls and brought them to a standstill; they were not in the least embarrassed at this, but laughed more than ever.  Neither of them was pretty, but there was a certain attraction about them that pleased Vandover immensely.  He was very excited.

Then there was a very embarrassing pause.  No one knew what to say.  Geary alone regained his assurance at length, and began a lively interchange of chaff with one of them.  The others could only stand about and smile.

“Well,” cried the other girl after a while, “I ain’t going to stand here in the snow all night.  Let’s take a walk; come along.  I choose you.”  Before Vandover knew it she had taken his arm.  The sophomore managed in some way to pair off with the other girl; Haight had already left the group; the two couples started off, while Geary and the other sophomore who were left out followed awkwardly in the rear for a little way and then disappeared.

Vandover was so excited that he could scarcely speak.  This was a new experience.  At first it attracted him, but the hopeless vulgarity of the girl at his side, her tawdry clothes, her sordid, petty talk, her slang, her miserable profanity, soon began to revolt him.  He felt that he could not keep his self-respect while such a girl hung upon his arm.

“Say,” said the girl at length, “didn’t I see you in town the other afternoon on Washington Street?”

“Maybe you did,” answered Vandover, trying to be polite.  “I’m down there pretty often.”

“Well, I guess yes,” she answered.  “You Harvard sports make a regular promenade out o’ Washington Street Saturday afternoons.  I suppose I’ve seen you down there pretty often, but didn’t notice.  Do you stand or walk?”

Vandover’s gorge rose with disgust.  He stopped abruptly and pulled away from the girl.  Not only did she disgust him, but he felt sorry for her; he felt ashamed and pitiful for a woman who had fallen so low.  Still he tried to be polite to her; he did not know how to be rude with any kind of woman.