Free David Lodge - Small World by Author's Note

these days. I seldom go into the university except to teach my courses.”
    “That’s a very interesting theory,” said Persse. “And rather reassuring, because my own university has very few buildings and hardly any books.”
    “Right. As long as you have access to a telephone, a Xerox machine, and a conference grant fund, you’re OK, you’re plugged into the only university that really matters—the global campus. A young man in a hurry can see the world by conference-hopping.”
    “Oh, I’m not in a hurry,” said Persse.
    “You must have some ambitions.”
    “I would like to get my poems published,” said Persse. “And I have another ambition too personal to be divulged.”
    “Al Papps!” Morris Zapp exclaimed.
    “How did you guess?” Persse asked, astonished.
    “Guess what? I just said that’s Al Papps running ahead of us.”
    “So it is!” The figure Persse had glimpsed earlier was indeed Angelica, she must have taken some detour, and had now reappeared on the path ahead of them, scarcely a hundred yards distant.
    “That sure is some girl! She looks like a million dollars, has read everything you can name, and she can really run, can’t she?”
    “Like Atalanta,” Persse murmured. “Let’s catch her up.”
    “You catch her up, Percy, I’m pooped.”
    Morris Zapp soon fell behind as Persse accelerated, but the distance between himself and Angelica remained constant. Then she gave a quick glance over her shoulder, and he realized that she was aware of his pursuit. They were descending a long sloping path that led to the halls of residence. Faster and faster grew the pace, until both were sprinting. Persse narrowed the gap. Angelica’s head went back, and her black hair streamed out behind her. Her supple haunches, bewitchingly sheathed in a tight-fitting orange track suit, thrust the tarmac away from under her flying feet. They reached the entrance to Lucas Hall shoulder to shoulder, and leaned against the outside wall, panting and laughing. The driver of a taxi that was waiting by the entrance grinned and applauded.
    “What happened to you last night?” Persse gasped.
    “I went to bed, of course,” said Angelica. “In my room. Room 231.”
    Morris Zapp laboured up, wheezing stertorously. “Who won?”
    “It was a dead heat,” said the cab driver, leaning out of his window. “Very diplomatic, driver. Now you can take me back to St John’s Road,” said Morris Zapp, climbing into the taxi. “See you around, kids.”
    “Do you usually jog by taxi, Professor Zapp?” Persse inquired.
    “Well, I’m staying with the Swallows, as you know, and I didn’t fancy running through the streets of Rummidge inhaling the rush-hour. Ciao !” Morris Zapp sank back into the seat of the taxi, and took from a pocket in his track suit a fat cigar, a cigar clipper and a lighter. He was busying himself with this apparatus as the taxi drew away.
    Persse turned to address Angelica, but she had disappeared. “Was there ever such a girl for disappearing?” he muttered to himself in vexation. “It’s as if she had a magic ring for making herself invisible.”
    Somehow, Angelica eluded Persse for the rest of the morning. When, after showering and dressing, he went to the Martineau Hall refectory for breakfast, he found her already seated at a fully occupied table, next to Dempsey. She was not a member of the little caravan of conferees who, with a conspicuous lack of enthusiasm, and buffeted by occasional squalls of rain, made their way down the hill from the halls of residence to the main campus for the first lecture of the morning. Persse, having watched them depart, and waited in vain for a few extra minutes, finally hurried after them, only to be overtaken by Dempsey’s car, with Angelica in the front passenger seat. The pair contrived, however, to be late for the lecture, tiptoeing in after the proceedings had begun. Persse paid little attention to the lecture, which was about the problem of