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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

sixteen years old for six months. 

 

"Isabelle!" called her cousin Sally from the doorway of the 

dressing-room. 

 

"I'm ready." She caught a slight lump of nervousness in her throat. 

 

"I had to send back to the house for another pair of slippers. It'll be 

just a minute." 

 

Isabelle started toward the dressing-room for a last peek in the mirror, 

but something decided her to stand there and gaze down the broad stairs 

of the Minnehaha Club. They curved tantalizingly, and she could catch 

just a glimpse of two pairs of masculine feet in the hall below. 

Pump-shod in uniform black, they gave no hint of identity, but she 

wondered eagerly if one pair were attached to Amory Blaine. This young 

man, not as yet encountered, had nevertheless taken up a considerable 

part of her day--the first day of her arrival. Coming up in the machine 

from the station, Sally had volunteered, amid a rain of question, 

comment, revelation, and exaggeration: 

 

"You remember Amory Blaine, of _course_. Well, he's simply mad to 

see you again. He's stayed over a day from college, and he's coming 

to-night. He's heard so much about you--says he remembers your eyes." 

 

This had pleased Isabelle. It put them on equal terms, although she 

was quite capable of staging her own romances, with or without advance 

advertising. But following her happy tremble of anticipation, came a 

sinking sensation that made her ask: 

 

"How do you mean he's heard about me? What sort of things?" 

 

Sally smiled. She felt rather in the capacity of a showman with her more 

exotic cousin. 

 

"He knows you're--you're considered beautiful and all that"--she 

paused--"and I guess he knows you've been kissed." 

 

At this Isabelle's little fist had clinched suddenly under the fur robe. 

She was accustomed to be thus followed by her desperate past, and it 

never failed to rouse in her the same feeling of resentment; yet--in a 

strange town it was an advantageous reputation. She was a "Speed," was 

she? Well--let them find out. 

 

Out of the window Isabelle watched the snow glide by in the frosty 

morning. It was ever so much colder here than in Baltimore; she had 


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