It had "antique
shops," true; but one's best chances were got through mousing among the
small scattered troups of foreigners (variegated they were) who had lately
been coming in pell-mell, bringing their household knick-knacks with them.
There was a Ghetto, there was a Little Italy, there were bits of Bulgaria,
Bohemia, Armenia, if one had tired of dubious Louis Quinze and Empire. In
an atmosphere of general newness a thing did not need to be very old to be
an antique.
The least old of all things in Randolph's world were the students who
flooded Churchton. There were two or three thousand of them, and hundreds
of new ones came with every September. Sometimes he felt prompted to
"collect" them, as contrasts to his older curios. They were fully as
interesting, in their way, as brasswork and leatherwork, those products of
peasant natures and peasant hands. But these youths ran past one's eye, ran
through one's fingers. They were not static, not even stable. They were
restless birds of passage who fidgeted through their years, and even
through the days of which the years were made: intent on their own affairs
and their own companions; thankless for small favors and kind attentions--
even unconscious of them; soaking up goodwill and friendly offices in a
fashion too damnably taken-for-granted .
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51