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They had come to college not, as Pierce’s generation seemed to Pierce to have gone to college, to be disabused of their superstitions, but to find new and different ones to adopt;
she parted from him with a little drunken bob like a bee-visited blossom;
Pierce in his pajamas, teeth brushed, prayers said, lay with the covers up to his chin, in the corner formed by the two walls against which his little bed was pressed (the more tightly the better, to prevent the midnight egress of whatever might be underneath).
