Word: portias
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...coffee-house was full of wholesome types sipping ginger ale and looking at each other in off-beat anxiety. Portia passed on, swinging her book bag. Her soul trembled; but, of course, imperceptibly...
...cluster of crew-cuts congealed at a brick wall and pitched pennies and told jokes and joined in spasmodic bursts of coarse laughter. A gaunt, triangular face asserted by a brown goatee told Portia her slip was showing. "It's snowing down south," he said wryly...
...Portia side-stepped into the Porcellian doorway (to the red-eyed dismay of a vanishing aristocrat who had chanced to the building in high hopes of a little wit and bourbon). She was just in time to avoid a pack of Summer School girls prowling the walk in search of males. "Mouse-trap," "parietal rules," and "sports car" drifted back from their grim and whispered ruminations...
...Portia stumbled out of the doorway and riverward with a shudder. Through the crowd of tennis racquets. sweat socks, low leers and pared fingernails, she plowed to the Charles. And, stepping lightly to avoid the couples seeking those several stolen seconds, she advanced to the banks and squatted to reflect on the floating refuge and the distant sails...
...drifted toward Martha's Vineyard; others that she was cut down in a frisbee cross-fire and buried at the Business School. A few are known to whisper of a midnight motorcycle kidnap and a shotgun wedding over two steins at Nick's (that's South of here). But Portia Parsley is now a legend, murmured at midnight over English muffins in the Bick, and remembered sometimes at a Yard punch. She never returned to North Dakota...