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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

"'_He who is not with me is against me_, as that gentleman said who 

was notoriously capable of only coarse distinctions and puerile 

generalities.'" 

 

"What of it?" Ferrenby began to look alarmed. "Oliver Cromwell said it, 

didn't he? or was it Washington, or one of the saints? Good Lord, I've 

forgotten." 

 

Burne roared with laughter. 

 

"Oh, Jesse, oh, good, kind Jesse." 

 

"Who said it, for Pete's sake?" 

 

"Well," said Burne, recovering his voice, "St. Matthew attributes it to 

Christ." 

 

"My God!" cried Jesse, and collapsed backward into the waste-basket. 

 

***** 

 

AMORY WRITES A POEM 

 

The weeks tore by. Amory wandered occasionally to New York on the chance 

of finding a new shining green auto-bus, that its stick-of-candy 

glamour might penetrate his disposition. One day he ventured into a 

stock-company revival of a play whose name was faintly familiar. The 

curtain rose--he watched casually as a girl entered. A few phrases rang 

in his ear and touched a faint chord of memory. Where--? When--? 

 

Then he seemed to hear a voice whispering beside him, a very soft, 

vibrant voice: "Oh, I'm such a poor little fool; _do_ tell me when I do 

wrong." 

 

The solution came in a flash and he had a quick, glad memory of 

Isabelle. 

 

He found a blank space on his programme, and began to scribble rapidly: 

 

"Here in the figured dark I watch once more, 

There, with the curtain, roll the years away; 

Two years of years--there was an idle day 

Of ours, when happy endings didn't bore 

Our unfermented souls; I could adore 

Your eager face beside me, wide-eyed, gay, 

Smiling a repertoire while the poor play 

Reached me as a faint ripple reaches shore. 

 

"Yawning and wondering an evening through, 

I watch alone... and chatterings, of course, 

Spoil the one scene which, somehow, _did_ have charms; 

You wept a bit, and I grew sad for you 

Right here! Where Mr. X defends divorce 

And What's-Her-Name falls fainting in his arms." 

 

***** 

 

STILL CALM 

 

"Ghosts are such dumb things," said Alec, "they're slow-witted. I can 


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