Epilogue
Professor James Wentworth walked outside from his Dickens and Theater seminar and stood beside Wheeler Hall. It was a beautiful building, Wheeler Hall, with its French Baroque façade and arched doorways, and he was thankful to be there, at that moment, on the campus of UC Berkeley in the easy mid-April sunshine. He felt the soul-calming breeze blowing the foliage while he glanced at the Venice-inspired Sather Tower, the green steeple pointing steadily toward the cloudless sky, the salty scent of the sea in every breath he took. One day soon he would go back to the top of the Tower, or the Campanile as it was also known, for its exquisite view of the San Francisco Bay, but that afternoon he had an important date to keep. He squinted in the brightness of the day, a bit of the old s
