Another agreed that there was nothing to live for.

"Captain Corn," who had somehow rejoined the party, said that in his opinion it was when one's health was bad that one felt that way most.

Amory's suggestion was that they should each order a Bronx, mix broken glass in it, and drink it off.

To his relief no one applauded the idea, so having finished his high-ball, he balanced his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table--a most delicate, scarcely noticeable sleeping position, he assured himself--and went into a deep stupor....
He was awakened by a woman clinging to him, a pretty woman, with brown, disarranged hair and dark blue eyes.
"Take me home!" she cried.
"Hello!" said Amory, blinking.
"I like you," she announced tenderly.
"I like you too." He noticed that there was a noisy man in the background and that one of his party was arguing with him.
"Fella I was with's a damn fool," confided the blue-eyed woman.

"I hate him.