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Table of contents
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

they think; do you s'pose you have to _tell_ me!" He paused. "I'm--I've 

got to go back now--hope I'm not rude--" 

 

He left the room hurriedly. In the cool air outside, as he walked to his 

house, he exulted in his refusal to be helped. 

 

"That _damn_ old fool!" he cried wildly. "As if I didn't _know!_" 

 

He decided, however, that this was a good excuse not to go back to study 

hall that night, so, comfortably couched up in his room, he munched 

Nabiscos and finished "The White Company." 

 

***** 

 

INCIDENT OF THE WONDERFUL GIRL 

 

There was a bright star in February. New York burst upon him on 

Washington's Birthday with the brilliance of a long-anticipated event. 

His glimpse of it as a vivid whiteness against a deep-blue sky had left 

a picture of splendor that rivalled the dream cities in the Arabian 

Nights; but this time he saw it by electric light, and romance gleamed 

from the chariot-race sign on Broadway and from the women's eyes at the 

Astor, where he and young Paskert from St. Regis' had dinner. When they 

walked down the aisle of the theatre, greeted by the nervous twanging 

and discord of untuned violins and the sensuous, heavy fragrance of 

paint and powder, he moved in a sphere of epicurean delight. Everything 

enchanted him. The play was "The Little Millionaire," with George M. 

Cohan, and there was one stunning young brunette who made him sit with 

brimming eyes in the ecstasy of watching her dance. 

 

"Oh--you--wonderful girl, 

What a wonderful girl you are--" 

 

sang the tenor, and Amory agreed silently, but passionately. 

 

"All--your--wonderful words 

Thrill me through--" 

 

The violins swelled and quavered on the last notes, the girl sank to a 

crumpled butterfly on the stage, a great burst of clapping filled the 

house. Oh, to fall in love like that, to the languorous magic melody of 

such a tune! 

 

The last scene was laid on a roof-garden, and the 'cellos sighed to the 

musical moon, while light adventure and facile froth-like comedy flitted 

back and forth in the calcium. Amory was on fire to be an habitui of 


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