CHOOSE SETTING >> Oxford | Vieste | Normandy
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The Dreaming Spires of Oxford
The cab turned into the High Street from the Turl. As I looked out from the window, nothing seemed to have changed in Oxford: warm amber stone, graceful oriel windows, bow-fronted haberdasheries displaying Scottish tweeds and emblazoned college ties. It all looked the same.


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  The gate to All Souls College
On Wednesday morning, exactly one minute before eleven o'clock, I stepped into the quad at All Souls College. I found
the porter's lodge and asked for directions to Professor Lambeth's office.

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  The Sheldonian on the Broad. Across from Blackwell's Bookshop
I threw my raincoat over my shoulders and hurried to Blackwell's. I would stay there until the shop closed.
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  The High Street looking toward Magdalen College
Outside, the sun was casting long, oblique shadows against the golden stone of Queen's College. Strange. There was hardly any traffic on the High--just a few undergraduates cycling home for tea, black gowns flapping behind them.
Astride a glossy black stallion, a man was riding down past the old Mitre Hotel at a slow trot. Stranger yet, I couldn't remember ever having seen horses and riders on the High.