My four college years were a nightmare. You know — or you don’t know — what merciless beasts boys can be when they get a victim like me. I had few friends — there was always some barrier between me and the kind of people I cared for. And the other kind — who would have been very willing to be intimate with rich old Doc. Redfern’s son — I didn’t care for. But I had one friend — or thought I had. A clever, bookish chap — a bit of a writer. That was a bond between us — I had some secret aspirations along that line. He was older than I was — I looked up to him and worshipped him. For a year I was happier than I’d ever been. Then — a burlesque sketch came out in the college magazine — a mordant thing, ridiculing Dad’s remedies. The names were changed, of course, but