Dean Milston was the dourest, sourest, meanest old tyrant ever to suspend a football captain for a couple of unimportant "D"s. One afternoon in junior year at basketball practice--Benji was out, dragging around a cast--Jocko Bunter bet me ten I didn't have the nerve to date the dean's daughter. Well, hell, I'd seen her around, visiting the dean as regularly as I had to. She was a lot of girl. Tall, honey-blonde--a little on the regal, commanding side, and maybe her lips were a mite set over a chin that the old man should have kept to himself--but there are times when a young man doesn't analyze the details as carefully as he might. She was built like nothing I had tackled all fall. So I took a chance, got a date, won ten, and that might and should have been that. She had a way of saying "No!" that made me think of her father. But, the thing was, Benji didn't know about the bet. I dated her once. So he had to date her twice. Again, I didn't analyze. I jumped to the conclusion Benji had the hots for her and went to work to cut him out. That kept us busy the next year and a half and I led all the way. Vera and I got engaged at the spring prom to be married right after my graduation--which improved the odds on my graduating considerably. The dean was a grim old devil who considered Hamlet a comedy and could refuse anything to anyone--except Vera, and how could I have known it was fear rather than affection that made him give in to her? Anyway, perhaps the strain of passing me a diploma was too great. The next day the old devil passed on himself, and no matter where he may be sitting, I know he is happy as long as he can watch the others fry. But I shouldn't grumble. He saved me, unintentional though it was. Vera, possibly having second thoughts as she looked over the Dean's List, said she couldn't marry me till after a reasonable period of mourning. The Army took me and rejected Benji. He stayed on for post-graduate study in physics. I told you he was a brain. A brain, but not equally acute in all fields. When I got back to Belt City three years later, Benji was already an assistant professor of physics--and Vera's husband. They were settled in the old dean's big, ancient house just off the campus and Benji was aiming--or being aimed--at a distinguished academic career. I came back to town with the idea of winding up the family insurance and real estate business and pulling out, mostly to keep away from them. It wasn't, you understand, that I was carrying such a heavy torch for Vera. She hadn't blighted my life; not then, that is. But it seemed to me that living in town with her and Professor Thurlow Benjamin--a gloating, triumphant Benji, laughing at me because he'd succeeded in marrying my girl--would be a real annoyance. But, of course, when I hit town I had to call them and they had to invite me to dinner.