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Forget on _narrow-minded earth_
The Mighty Yawn that gave you birth."
In April, Kerry Holiday left college and sailed for France to enroll in
the Lafayette Esquadrille. Amory's envy and admiration of this step
was drowned in an experience of his own to which he never succeeded in
giving an appropriate value, but which, nevertheless, haunted him for
three years afterward.
Healy's they left at twelve and taxied to Bistolary's. There were Axia
Marlowe and Phoebe Column, from the Summer Garden show, Fred Sloane
and Amory. The evening was so very young that they felt ridiculous with
surplus energy, and burst into the cafe like Dionysian revellers.
"Table for four in the middle of the floor," yelled Phoebe. "Hurry, old
dear, tell 'em we're here!"
"Tell 'em to play 'Admiration'!" shouted Sloane. "You two order; Phoebe
and I are going to shake a wicked calf," and they sailed off in the
muddled crowd. Axia and Amory, acquaintances of an hour, jostled behind
a waiter to a table at a point of vantage; there they took seats and
"There's Findle Margotson, from New Haven!" she cried above the uproar.
"'Lo, Findle! Whoo-ee!"
"Oh, Axia!" he shouted in salutation. "C'mon over to our table." "No!"
"Can't do it, Findle; I'm with somebody else! Call me up to-morrow about
Findle, a nondescript man-about-Bisty's, answered incoherently and
turned back to the brilliant blonde whom he was endeavoring to steer
around the room.
"There's a natural damn fool," commented Amory.
"Oh, he's all right. Here's the old jitney waiter. If you ask me, I want
a double Daiquiri."
"Make it four."
The crowd whirled and changed and shifted. They were mostly from the
colleges, with a scattering of the male refuse of Broadway, and women of
two types, the higher of which was the chorus girl. On the whole it was
a typical crowd, and their party as typical as any. About three-fourths
of the whole business was for effect and therefore harmless, ended at
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