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Show Anting Alone Page 208 to some of these comments," said Professor B, "still you have to remember, Sammy, that if everybody chose to correct their freshman themes in this manner, mere anarchism would be released upon the English department." Professor B cocked his eye around the table to see if either of his older colleagues had caught his Yeatsian "reverberation." Neither had. Professor A said, "I think you ought to seriously consider whether you want to actually make teaching your life's work, Mr. Edwine." (Splitting infinitives was not only permissible these days; it was in.) "I see very little evidence of the nurturing instinct here." Professor C lashed out again (he was really on the rag today). "God knows what you're putting on the young women's papers. Something so embarrassing that they can't bring it up before us, eh, Edwine? Dirty pictures, maybe? Eh, Edwine?" No, but it sounds like an interesting idea. "Come now, Brewster. This isn't supposed to be an inquisition here," said Professor A. He glanced at Sam and noticed the ace bandage, completely soaked through with blood now. He lost his train of thought for a moment, and blurted, "What in the name of Christ did you do to your nose?" "Mmnf," said Sam. He poured himself some more wine. He was using his water glass now. He couldn't drink and breathe at the same time with his nose tied up like this, so he just mostly drank. His heart began beating faster for lack of oxygen, and his blood pressure palpably increased. Sam's hand movements as he manipulated the carafe and glass must have been jerky and hypertensive; because the three profs exchanged another secret signal and elected among themselves to unleash their biggest |
