The strangest part of his dilemma was that in spite of the conflict within, no real conflict existed, in the sense that others were involved besides himself. The problem was, if not of his own making, at least of no concern to anyone else, apparent neither to Cliff nor to Ethel; for them nonexistent. Thus no problem held true, except the inner moral conflict which had been undermining his very spirit—and which yesterday morning and last night had sharply reminded him that, whereas any other man affectionately involved with a serviceman (as so many nowadays) might in a fond or casual moment throw a comradely arm about his shoulder, he must not. At last he knew why. And if the overwrought or keyed-­up emotions of the times had not created the dilemma in the first place, they had at least brought the thing to the surface, named it, and named him.

But was it any help to realize this; did it do him any good? Would it—could it ever—happen to Bill Howard, for example?

Bill Howard was just lucky, that’s all—lucky through no credit of his own that he had been born with the proper distribution of whatever it is (who knows?) and thus had no predisposition to error of this kind. John Grandin was reminded of a conversation only last spring with an old friend down from the University of Maine for the Easter holidays. They had had lunch together, and during the course of the hour his friend had said solemnly: “A very sad thing happened at school, it’s distressed us all.” “Oh?” “One of the professors,” he went on to explain—in all seriousness—“was caught screwing a pig.” To the horror of the visiting colleague, Grandin instinctively threw back his head and roared with hilarious laughter. The friend regarded him with shock and disappointment; nor could John Grandin blame him. For in the very instant that he had given way to such a reflex, he had comprehended with genuine compassion the desperate lengths to which the poor fellow had been driven, his utter public humiliation because of an episode of no real consequence whatever, the ruin that would inevitably end his whole career, and his personal tragedy for many years to come.