Gregory is my friend, and Dr. Ward, our literary
editor, looks on him as a distinguished contributor to the
_Independent_, and a young writer of great and growing promise" ... so
the luncheon was given ... I wonder if the protesting professor was one
of those invited, and if so, if he attended?...
I saw clearly that I could never fit into the formal, academic life of
the college--where professors were ashamed to be seen carrying packages
and bags home from the stores, but must have them delivered ... for fear
of losing their social status!
* * * * *
There was a park on the outskirts of town where I loved to loaf, when
the weather was sunny,--a place where the blue jays fought with the
squirrels and the leaves flickered in the sun ... sometimes I lay on the
grass, reading ... sometimes I lounged on a bench ... I read my Greek
and Latin poets there ... and my English and German poets ... and, when
hungry, I sauntered home to my bread and cheese, or, now that I was in
receipt of Derek's weekly stipend, to a frugal meal at some lunch
counter. I dearly liked rib-ends of beef....
One day, when I was in my park, lying on my belly, reading Josephus, I
was aware of the deputy sheriff, Small, whom I knew, standing over
me....
"Oh, it's _you_, Gregory!"
"Yes, what's the matter, Deputy Small? what do you want?"
"People who drove in from the country complained about your lying here.
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