Fall 1966 • Vol. XXVIII No. 5 FictionNovember 1, 1966 |

A Possible Misunderstanding of an Exchange of Some Pink and Gold Pearls

The school is probably still there. That is how deeply doubt has eroded my recollection of the events that took place there. I approach that recollection gingerly, lest, should I come upon it with too great assurance, it might transform itself effortlessly into mist, or, worse yet, reassert with full orchestra its broiling reality. When I try to remember what it looks like I get halfway to seeing several four-story frame houses linked together with fire-escapes and brick passageways, and then it all slips out of sight behind the high thorn hedge and the even higher paling fence, and I see myself running out of the gate into the High Street full of scooters and buses and lorries, and there floats after me the disembodied plaint of Miss Wockley, the little headmistress: "Is anything the matter? Anything the matter?" Something is the matter. I have probably been absent from school for several days, and, since there is no reason to think that I have been ill, it is understood

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Excursion

By Helen Barolini

The school is probably still there. That is how deeply doubt has eroded my recollection of the events that took place there. I approach that recollection gingerly, lest, should I […]

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