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AMORY, SON OF BEATRICE
SPIRES AND GARGOYLES
THE EGOTIST CONSIDERS
NARCISSUS OFF DUTY
THE DEBUTANTE
EXPERIMENTS IN CONVALESCENCE
YOUNG IRONY
THE SUPERCILIOUS SACRIFICE
THE EGOTIST BECOMES A PERSONAGE

lapping marble shores, and great birds that soared through the air, 

parti-colored birds with iridescent plumage. I heard strange music and 

the flare of barbaric trumpets--what?" 

 

Amory had snickered. 

 

"What, Amory?" 

 

"I said go on, Beatrice." 

 

"That was all--it merely recurred and recurred--gardens that flaunted 

coloring against which this would be quite dull, moons that whirled and 

swayed, paler than winter moons, more golden than harvest moons--" 

 

"Are you quite well now, Beatrice?" 

 

"Quite well--as well as I will ever be. I am not understood, Amory. I 

know that can't express it to you, Amory, but--I am not understood." 

 

Amory was quite moved. He put his arm around his mother, rubbing his 

head gently against her shoulder. 

 

"Poor Beatrice--poor Beatrice." 

 

"Tell me about _you_, Amory. Did you have two _horrible_ years?" 

 

Amory considered lying, and then decided against it. 

 

"No, Beatrice. I enjoyed them. I adapted myself to the bourgeoisie. 

I became conventional." He surprised himself by saying that, and he 

pictured how Froggy would have gaped. 

 

"Beatrice," he said suddenly, "I want to go away to school. Everybody in 

Minneapolis is going to go away to school." 

 

Beatrice showed some alarm. 

 

"But you're only fifteen." 

 

"Yes, but everybody goes away to school at fifteen, and I _want_ to, 

Beatrice." 

 

On Beatrice's suggestion the subject was dropped for the rest of the 

walk, but a week later she delighted him by saying: 

 

"Amory, I have decided to let you have your way. If you still want to, 

you can go to school." 

 

"Yes?" 

 

"To St. Regis's in Connecticut." 

 

Amory felt a quick excitement. 

 

"It's being arranged," continued Beatrice. "It's better that you should 

go away. I'd have preferred you to have gone to Eton, and then to Christ 

Church, Oxford, but it seems impracticable now--and for the present 

we'll let the university question take care of itself." 

 

"What are you going to do, Beatrice?" 

 

"Heaven knows. It seems my fate to fret away my years in this country. 


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