All big John Thorwald knew was, in a few weeks he must leave old Bannister,
must give up, for a time, his college course. Just when the grim battle was
won, he must leave, to work. Not that the Viking cared about toil. It was
the delay that chafed even his stolid self. He was stunned at having to
wait, maybe two years, before starting again.
And yet, as he squatted on the side-line, oblivious to everything but his
bitter reflections, the Theophilus-quoted words of Shakespeare persisted in
intruding on his thoughts:
"This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong--
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long."
Try as he would, he could not fight away the keen realization that
books and study were not all he would regret to leave. He was forced to
acknowledge that his mind kept wandering to other things. He found himself
pondering on the parting with Theophilus Opperdyke, with that crazy Hicks;
he wondered if he, out in the world again, toiling his lonely way, would
miss the glad fellowship of these care-free youths that he had watched,
but never shared, if he would ever think of the weeks at old Bannister.
Somehow, he felt that he would often vision the Quad at night, brightly
lighted, dormitories' lights agleam, students crossing and recrossing,
shouting at studious comrades. He would hear again the melodious
banjo-twanging, the gleeful saengerfests, the happy skylarking of the boys.
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