"Yes, my sister's husband is one of the University trustees. But he lives miles from this spot and hardly ever sees it. Besides, his aesthetic endowments are not beyond those of the average university trustee. Sometimes they're as hard on Beauty as they are on Free Speech."
"I see they're hard on beauty; and I may live to find free speech mauled, too."
"Well, you're not in Sociology or Economics. Still, don't trifle with a long-established aesthetic idol either. Trustees—and department heads—are conservative."
"Oh, you mean about——?"
"About your immortal William. He wrote them. Don't try to rob him.
Don't try to knock him off his pedestal."
"Oh, you're thinking about my thesis. What I said about Warwickshire was just a little flight of fancy, I guess,—a bit of doorstep travel. I'm likely enough to stay where I am."
"Well, how about the thesis, really?"
"I think I shall end by digging something out of Here and Now. 'Our
Middle-West School of Fiction,'—what would you think of that?"
"H'm! If you can make it seem worth while…."
"Well, can't I?"