Word: vagabondism
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Harvard, the Vagabond reflected belligerently, as he gambolled down the steps of Widener, had no soul. Vag was in one of those devil-may-care moods which always scize him, to the detriment of his marks and the anguish of his tutor, just before examinations...
With such pensive musing, the Vagabond climbs into a shower, then into his tails, then into the family sedan. He drives carefully to Her house, and then after an interval of cheery chitchat with Her family, they drive to the party-dance. She is wearing the gown he likes, and She shows deference to his solemn mood by sitting close and quietly linking...
...afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight, and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon Heath embrowned itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its floor," the Vagabond gets one definite mental picture, while you may get an entirely different impression. Vag's mental picture of tents is always biased by a very rainy camping trip last summer. When Vag hears of lents, it has just got to be raining. To some, however, tents may always mean armies...
...room was still again. He was reading a poem called "Precaution." It was a short one, but it seemed good common sense to the Vagabond as he listened...
...Vagabond sloshed home and he couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Frost. He was cavalier. He wasn't scholarly. He was almost home-spun. He was definitely provincial, definitely New England. Yet any man with that twinkle in his eye, with that simplicity that couldn't be dismissed must be eminently wise. The Vagabond wishes he could hear Mr. Frost more often. Every time he sees the birch trees he will think of that lecture and the next time the poet of New England comes to Harvard the Vagabond will be there, sitting in the front...