Chapter 32: For Mortarboard and Wreath
I blurted out my conclusion. “■■■ ■■ ■■■ doesn’t exist.”
Arthur, who was adjusting his morning coat and tidying his appearance, turned to me with a frown. He asked as if I’d just made the most mundane observation imaginable. “Doesn’t exist, you say?”
“That’s right, it’s a fictional entity created by the Royal Society. If I had to put it another way, the entire Oldcourt could be called ■■■ ■■ ■■■. Damn it, Acting Dean Callas was right from the beginning. Oldcourt was a breeding ground for ■■■ ■■ ■■■. No, it was one enormous ■■■ ■■ ■■■ itself.”
“Wait, wait. Could you try breathing while you talk? What’s all this about ■■■ mumbo-jumbo whatever?”
“Not mumbo-jumbo, but ■■ ■■■. ■■■ ■■ ■■■.”
I took a breath as he suggested.
“Are you going out somewhere?”
“Ah, quick to notice. Why, should I have asked for your permission? If it’s not too presumptuous, may I step out of my own house? I promise I’ll be back before 6 p.m.”
“Why so prickly over one simple question?”