He went out the door, Tom close behind him.
It was a March night, with snow on the ground, but thawing. They were
without overcoats, and bare-headed. A few motor cars were passing, but
not many pedestrians.
"Run," Tom commanded.
He ran. They both ran. The distance being short, they were soon in
Brattle Square. Tad stopped at a little shop, showing a faint light.
There was too much in the way of window display to allow of the
passer-by, who didn't give himself some trouble, to see anything within.
At first they heard nothing. Then came a whimpering, like that of a
little dog, shut in and lonely, tired out with yelping. Putting his
ear to the door, Tom heard a desolate, "Tam! Tam!" It was the only
utterance.
"Here's the key! Unlock the door."
Tad did as he was bidden. Inside the "Tam! Tam!" ceased.
"Now go in, and say you're sorry."
As Tad hesitated Tom gave him a push. The door being now ajar the
culprit went sprawling into the presence of his victim.
There was a spring like that of a cat. There was also a snarl like a
cat's snarl. "You tam Harvard student!"
Feeling he had done and said enough, Tom took to his heels; but as
someone else was taking to his heels, and running close behind him, he
judged that Tad had escaped.
Back in his room, Tom felt spent. In his bed he was in emotional revolt
against his victory. He loathed it. He loathed everything that had led
up to it. The eyes that had stared into his, when the two had lain
together on the floor, were like those of something he had murdered.
What was it? What was the thing that deep down within him, rooted
in the primal impulses that must have been there before there was a
world--what was the thing that had been devastated, outraged? Once
more, he didn't know.