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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

the hour grew late, and their wines, stored in overcoat pockets in the 

coat room, made old weariness wait until another day. The stag line is 

a most homogeneous mass of men. It fairly sways with a single soul. A 

dark-haired beauty dances by and there is a half-gasping sound as the 

ripple surges forward and some one sleeker than the rest darts out and 

cuts in. Then when the six-foot girl (brought by Kaye in your class, and 

to whom he has been trying to introduce you all evening) gallops by, 

the line surges back and the groups face about and become intent on far 

corners of the hall, for Kaye, anxious and perspiring, appears elbowing 

through the crowd in search of familiar faces. 

 

"I say, old man, I've got an awfully nice--" 

 

"Sorry, Kaye, but I'm set for this one. I've got to cut in on a fella." 

 

"Well, the next one?" 

 

"What--ah--er--I swear I've got to go cut in--look me up when she's got 

a dance free." 

 

It delighted Amory when Isabelle suggested that they leave for a while 

and drive around in her car. For a delicious hour that passed too soon 

they glided the silent roads about Princeton and talked from the surface 

of their hearts in shy excitement. Amory felt strangely ingenuous and 

made no attempt to kiss her. 

 

Next day they rode up through the Jersey country, had luncheon in New 

York, and in the afternoon went to see a problem play at which Isabelle 

wept all through the second act, rather to Amory's embarrassment--though 

it filled him with tenderness to watch her. He was tempted to lean over 

and kiss away her tears, and she slipped her hand into his under cover 

of darkness to be pressed softly. 

 

Then at six they arrived at the Borges' summer place on Long Island, and 

Amory rushed up-stairs to change into a dinner coat. As he put in his 

studs he realized that he was enjoying life as he would probably never 

enjoy it again. Everything was hallowed by the haze of his own youth. He 

had arrived, abreast of the best in his generation at Princeton. He was 

in love and his love was returned. Turning on all the lights, he looked 


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