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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

 

"Yes. Don't say a word to anybody, please, but I am. I may not come back 

next year." 

 

"But you're only twenty! Give up college?" 

 

"Why, Amory, you were saying a minute ago--" 

 

"Yes," Amory interrupted, "but I was just wishing. I wouldn't think of 

leaving college. It's just that I feel so sad these wonderful nights. I 

sort of feel they're never coming again, and I'm not really getting all 

I could out of them. I wish my girl lived here. But marry--not a chance. 

Especially as father says the money isn't forthcoming as it used to be." 

 

"What a waste these nights are!" agreed Alec. 

 

But Amory sighed and made use of the nights. He had a snap-shot of 

Isabelle, enshrined in an old watch, and at eight almost every night he 

would turn off all the lights except the desk lamp and, sitting by the 

open windows with the picture before him, write her rapturous letters. 

 

... Oh it's so hard to write you what I really _feel_ when I 

think about you so much; you've gotten to mean to me a _dream_ that 

I can't put on paper any more. Your last letter came and it was 

wonderful! I read it over about six times, especially the last 

part, but I do wish, sometimes, you'd be more _frank_ and tell me 

what you really do think of me, yet your last letter was too good 

to be true, and I can hardly wait until June! Be sure and be able 

to come to the prom. It'll be fine, I think, and I want to bring 

_you_ just at the end of a wonderful year. I often think over what 

you said on that night and wonder how much you meant. If it were 

anyone but you--but you see I _thought_ you were fickle the first 

time I saw you and you are so popular and everthing that I can't 

imagine you really liking me _best_. 

 

Oh, Isabelle, dear--it's a wonderful night. Somebody is playing 

"Love Moon" on a mandolin far across the campus, and the music 

seems to bring you into the window. Now he's playing "Good-by, 

Boys, I'm Through," and how well it suits me. For I am through 

with everything. I have decided never to take a cocktail again, 

and I know I'll never again fall in love--I couldn't--you've been 


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