They had met casually, in front
of the chapel, after a lecture--or a service--by an eminent ethical teacher
from abroad,--a bird of passage who must pipe on this Sunday afternoon if
he were to pipe at all. Cope, who had lain abed late, made this address a
substitute for the forenoon service he had missed. And Amy Leffingwell had
gone out somewhat for the sake, perhaps, of walking by the house where Cope
lived.
They passed the Science building, with its tower crowned by an ornamental
open-work iron pyramid for wireless, and the segregated group of
theological dormitories through whose windows earnest ringing young voices
were sometimes heard at the practice of sermon-delivery, and the men's club
where the billiard tables were doubtless decorously covered with their
customary Sunday sheets of black oilcloth, and took intuitively the path
which led along the edge of the bluff. Beyond them, further bluffs and a
few low headlands; here a lighthouse, there a water-tower; elsewhere (and
not so far) the balconied roof of the life-saving station, where the boats,
light and heavy, were manned by muscular students: their vigilance and
activity, interspersed with long periods of leisure or of absence, helped
them to "pay their way.
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