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In the midst of the festivity Stark sat at the table silently, the perpetual dark rings under his eyes making them look like burning oil at the bottom of two deep wells. He bought all the beer the others could manage to drink between seven and eleven, and he drank a lot of it himself, even though he had had to borrow the money from the twenty percent men to pay for it. But he watched it all reflectively, and the old peculiar almost laughing, almost crying, almost sneering expression did not leave his face.

Prewitt was one of the G Company men who happened in during the evening. Stark bought each one of them the traditional free beer a new noncom always buys. It was the custom to drop in and collect it. But when Prewitt came Warden waxed drunkenly sarcastic.

“Whats a matter, kid?” he wanted to know, swimmingly, his hair down in his eyes. “You broke kid? Poor kid, he broke. No beer, no money, no cunt. Poor kid. I’ll buy you a whole case, kid. I hate to see you come around for the handout, its as hard on a man’s pride as a breadline. Hey, Choy! Bring my friend here a case of Pabst, and put it on my account.” He laughed uproariously.

Stark watched Warden with reflective eyes and then looked Prewitt over thoughtfully. His eyes crinkled up contemplatively as he studied both of them. Then he offered to buy Prewitt another beer, besides the free one. But Prew refused and left, and Stark nodded thoughtfully.

That night Warden lay in his narrow bunk, his big arms crossed behind his head and listened to Pete’s drunken snore. It had been like drawing a flush at stud, when trips was the best possible hand against you. In the dark the pixy look of relish swept over his face, raising the quivering ends of his eyebrows. He looked at Pete’s dim form pityingly and then rolled over triumphantly toward sleep.

Dont pity Pete, it told him in the silence.

What, he thought, you again? I thought you went on a trip.

Nope, I’m still here. Did you think you could put me off forever? You’ve had a good time, the past two weeks, evading me. But the thing with Stark is over now.

Socrates had nothing on me, he thought. You mean you think I’ve been deliberately avoiding you?

Well? Havent you?

My god, he thought, whats gotten into you anyway? I can remember back when you trusted everybody; not just me, but everybody. And it wasnt so many years ago either, not more than ten. And now you wont even take my word of honor.

Thats right, it told him cheerfully. Can you remember all the scrapes we got into back then, too? We trusted this one, and we trusted that one. Man, it really cost us, didnt it? I can even remember a few times when I trusted you, and nearly laid us both right out to cool.

You’re exaggerating, he thought, you’re just cynical, god damn you.

Is that any way to talk to me? After all I’ve done for you?

Great God, he thought, I didnt marry you. You’re getting so you sound just like my Mother.

Dont blaspheme me, it told him coldly. You pulled a fast one, Milton, it went on relentlessly, on this deal with Stark. It looked good. But it didnt change the Company any. Its still the same. O’Hayer and the jockstraps havent lost an inch. And besides, its no credit to you. Anybody could have won a made to order hand like that one was, with Stark as the old ace in the hole.

All right, he thought, you bastard. I give up. What do you want?

Are you going to keep that date with Karen?

I said I was.

But you didnt admit you’d meant to keep it all along.

I did too admit it.

But you didnt believe it.

All right then, he thought, then I believe it. Does that suit you, you moralistic bastard? What else do you want me to admit?

Nothing now, it grinned. I’ll see you later.

“Oh Jesus,” he said aloud, “but you’re a distrustful son of a bitch. I wouldnt be like you for anything.”

“What?” Pete mumbled, sitting straight up in his bed. “I didnt do it, Sir. Honestly I didnt, Sir. I’m innocent as a new born lamb, Sir, I really am.”

“For Christ’s sake shut up and go to sleep,” Warden bellowed, plumping