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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

 

"Wonderful night." 

 

"It's a whiz." 

 

"You men going to unpack?" 

 

"Guess so. Come on, Burne." 

 

Amory decided to sit for a while on the front steps, so he bade them 

good night. 

 

The great tapestries of trees had darkened to ghosts back at the last 

edge of twilight. The early moon had drenched the arches with pale blue, 

and, weaving over the night, in and out of the gossamer rifts of moon, 

swept a song, a song with more than a hint of sadness, infinitely 

transient, infinitely regretful. 

 

He remembered that an alumnus of the nineties had told him of one of 

Booth Tarkington's amusements: standing in mid-campus in the small hours 

and singing tenor songs to the stars, arousing mingled emotions in the 

couched undergraduates according to the sentiment of their moods. 

 

Now, far down the shadowy line of University Place a white-clad phalanx 

broke the gloom, and marching figures, white-shirted, white-trousered, 

swung rhythmically up the street, with linked arms and heads thrown 

back: 

 

"Going back--going back, 

Going--back--to--Nas-sau--Hall, 

Going back--going back-- 

To the--Best--Old--Place--of--All. 

Going back--going back, 

From all--this--earth-ly--ball, 

We'll--clear--the--track--as--we--go--back-- 

Going--back--to--Nas-sau--Hall!" 

 

Amory closed his eyes as the ghostly procession drew near. The song 

soared so high that all dropped out except the tenors, who bore the 

melody triumphantly past the danger-point and relinquished it to the 

fantastic chorus. Then Amory opened his eyes, half afraid that sight 

would spoil the rich illusion of harmony. 

 

He sighed eagerly. There at the head of the white platoon marched 

Allenby, the football captain, slim and defiant, as if aware that this 

year the hopes of the college rested on him, that his hundred-and-sixty 

pounds were expected to dodge to victory through the heavy blue and 

crimson lines. 

 

Fascinated, Amory watched each rank of linked arms as it came abreast, 

the faces indistinct above the polo shirts, the voices blent in a paean 


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