A Feast of Demons
He said suddenly, "Virgie, you were a damned fool."
"I was," I admitted honestly. "Worse than you know. But I am no longer. Greek, old boy, all this stuff you told me about those demons got me interested. I had plenty of time for reading in prison. You won't find me as ignorant as I was the last time we talked."
He laughed sourly. "That's a hot one. Four years of college leave you as ignorant as the day you went in, but a couple years of jail make you an educated man."
"Also a reformed one."
He said mildly, "Not too reformed, I hope."
"Crime doesn't pay--except when it's within the law. That's the chief thing I learned."
"Even then it doesn't pay," he said moodily. "Except in money, of course. But what's the use of money?"
* * * * *
There wasn't anything to say to that. I said, probing delicately, "I figured you were loaded.
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Good story of an experiment gone wrong.
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