It’s late afternoon, and heat lies over Oxford with heavy, thick, impenetrable indolence. Earlier, girls in Daisy Dukes and baby doll dresses, armed with Estée Lauder bags and the confidence of youth, rambled along Courthouse Square like Confederate roses, shopping while their boyfriends — suitably attired in seersucker shorts, pastel polos, and loafers — lolled on benches, consulting iPhone itineraries and watches with enough dials to command a small flotilla.… Read more