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er father。 Still;
it was different from that of all other buildings。 Its rather
pretty; plaything; Gothic form was almost a style; in the dirty
industrial town。
She liked the hall; with its big stone chimney…piece and its
Gothic arches supporting the balcony above。 To be sure the
arches were ugly; the chimney…piece of cardboard…like carved
stone; with its armorial decoration; looked silly just opposite
the bicycle stand and the radiator; whilst the great
notice…board with its fluttering papers seemed to slam away all
sense of retreat and mystery from the far wall。 Nevertheless;
amorphous as it might be; there was in it a reminiscence of the
wondrous; cloistral origin of education。 Her soul flew straight
back to the medieval times; when the monks of God held the
learning of men and imparted it within the shadow of religion。
In this spirit she entered college。
The harshness and vulgarity of the lobbies and cloak…rooms
hurt her at first。 Why was it not all beautiful? But she could
not openly admit her criticism。 She was on holy ground。
She wanted all the students to have a high; pure spirit; she
wanted them to say only the real; genuine things; she wanted
their faces to be still and luminous as the nuns' and the monks'
faces。
Alas; the girls chattered and giggled and were nervous; they
were dressed up and frizzed; the men looked mean and
clownish。
Still; it was lovely to pass along the corridor with one's
books in one's hands; to push the swinging; glass…panelled door;
and enter the big room where the first lecture would be given。
The windows were large and lofty; the myria
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