House and Garden

House and GardenJohn Singer Sargent Girl FishingJohn Singer Sargent Dorothy Barnard
myself I'd present my card (already "properly signed") when I had passed by the Finals.
"Passed themby, you say?"
"I'm going to flunk WESCAC," I said. "Where's the plug? I'll pull it."
Bray very likely smiled as he went to the scanning console among the tape-racks. "Don't be silly, George; there isn't any plug. You'd have to cut the Power Lines, or short-circuit them. But do you really think it's worthwhile to take WESCAC so seriously? It's only a symbol."
This assertion I might have quarreled with: had Mother been impregnated by a symbol? Was it a symbol that had EATen the Amaterasus and G. Herrold, and would in all likelihood soon EAT me, if not the entire University? That incorporated in its circuitry all the dreams and definitions that tricked studentdom into believing in its own existence, and in the reality of its flunkage? Some symbol! But Bray clicked his tongue (and sundry buttons