When Michael got back to college, Avery was hard at work with Wedderburn drawing up the preliminary circular of The Oxford Looking-Glass. Both the promoters insisted that Michael should listen to their announcement before he told them anything about himself or his day.
“The Oxford Looking-Glass,” Avery began, “is intended to reflect contemporary undergraduate thought.”
“I prefer ‘will reflect,’” Wedderburn interrupted, in bass accents of positive opinion.
“I don’t think it very much matters,” said Michael, “as long as you don’t think that ‘contemporary undergraduate thought’ is too pretentious. The question is whether you can see a ghost in a mirror, for a spectral appearance is just about as near as undergraduate thought ever reaches toward reality.”
Neither Avery nor Wedderburn condescended to reply to his criticism, and the chief promoter went on:
“Some of the subjects which The Oxford Looking-Glass will reflect will be Literature, Politics, Painting, Music, and the Drama.”
“I think that’s a rotten sentence,” Michael interrupted.
“Well, of course, it will be polished,” Avery irritably explained. “What Wedders and I have been trying to do all the evening is to say as simply and directly as possible what we are aiming at.”
“Ah!” Michael agreed, smiling. “Now I’m beginning to understand.”
“It may be assumed,” Avery went on, “that the opinion of those who are ‘knocking at the door’ (in inverted commas)——”