Word: vag
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Weaving down Dunster Street with a catalogue under his arm, Vag was stopped by a double-breasted sharkskin for sale at $65. He realized with a shock that the suit would cost him the same as Comp. Lit. 3. Here was a new equality; he had never thought of education in those terms before. Either fabric was less or learning was more--in any case, it was a change. A well cut suit, he thought. I wonder if Comp. Lit. 3 is well...
There was some chance that Vag understood all this but it was slight. And he didn't have much time to cogitate for new the professor was silently lapping up his notes in his folder and was stepping off his stand. A perplexed hush followed. Vag looked around, a bit puzzled, but nobody moved. Pink and purple argyles, he thought, was this a last class? Still nobody moved, but Vag decided to risk a gambit and slapped his notebook closed with a loud crack. It was the right thing to do, for right away his row was clapping...
That's that, Vag thought, as he weaved his way out into the Spring. But last classes were deceptive. Problems never died away that neatly--never trickled off promptly at one o'clock on Friday or Saturday. If only they did, Vag mused. Wouldn't it be nice to declare a reading period for the Palestine Situation. A sort of academic moratorium, when everyone would catch up on their Required Reading. He wondered if examination conflicts were worse than ideological conflicts. One could be prevented--why not the other? Might set up a committee in charge of examination groups; perhaps...
...Vag played with the idea as he flipped his notebook from hand to hand. A committee to solve all conflicts! In his hazy mind's eye, he imagined a crowd watching the news roll around the Times Tower and yelling II, IV, VI, VIII, who do we appreciate? So simple too--give each problem a number and get everlasting peace. Vag hurried to reach University Hall before his white hope had faded...
...Vag glanced disgustedly at the grubby book, which was fresh from the shelves of Widener. The book had a certain amount of presumption, he thought, in claiming to be able to explain anything to him Especially when a soft wind was bending the grass down before it and the stores on Mass. Ave were showing bright Spring ties in their windows. Vag got up slowly, realizing that the grass was damper than he had thought. He fingered his book, overcame an impulse to hurl it into the Charles, and started back across the Drive. You could throw...