Still I did not push things. The climax would come of its own accord, in due time; but when it came two weeks before the end of the semester, I was not prepared for it. We were at the blackboard working algebra problems. "Larry, I'm getting married next month. . ." As casually as if announcing that he was going to a movie that evening. The way his eyes danced told me that he was in love with her. I don't think he noticed my change in mood; I had learned long before how to hide my reaction to words that hurt.

Two weeks remained. What then? To be what I could to him, to suffer because I could not be more, to postpone the chance of finding love elsewhere-whatever the price, I would pay it, if he wanted to be my friend. But the decision was not mine to make. It was his. He made it that afternoon, as we walked to the subway, when he reached for my hand and said-

"Will you be here next year?"

JON'S GREEN EYES:

A quiet color,

Like milk-green marble,

And clear

As mint liqueur.

D. R. E.

13