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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

hunting her sentence. 

 

Through early March he took to going to Philadelphia for week-ends. 

Almost always there was some one else there and she seemed not anxious 

to see him alone, for many occasions presented themselves when a word 

from her would have given him another delicious half-hour of adoration. 

But he fell gradually in love and began to speculate wildly on marriage. 

Though this design flowed through his brain even to his lips, still 

he knew afterward that the desire had not been deeply rooted. Once he 

dreamt that it had come true and woke up in a cold panic, for in his 

dream she had been a silly, flaxen Clara, with the gold gone out of her 

hair and platitudes falling insipidly from her changeling tongue. But 

she was the first fine woman he ever knew and one of the few good people 

who ever interested him. She made her goodness such an asset. Amory 

had decided that most good people either dragged theirs after them as a 

liability, or else distorted it to artificial geniality, and of course 

there were the ever-present prig and Pharisee--(but Amory never included 

_them_ as being among the saved). 

 

***** 

 

ST. CECILIA 

 

"Over her gray and velvet dress, 

Under her molten, beaten hair, 

Color of rose in mock distress 

Flushes and fades and makes her fair; 

Fills the air from her to him 

With light and languor and little sighs, 

Just so subtly he scarcely knows... 

Laughing lightning, color of rose." 

 

 

"Do you like me?" 

 

"Of course I do," said Clara seriously. 

 

"Why?" 

 

"Well, we have some qualities in common. Things that are spontaneous in 

each of us--or were originally." 

 

"You're implying that I haven't used myself very well?" 

 

Clara hesitated. 

 

"Well, I can't judge. A man, of course, has to go through a lot more, 

and I've been sheltered." 

 

"Oh, don't stall, please, Clara," Amory interrupted; "but do talk about 

me a little, won't you?" 

 

"Surely, I'd adore to." She didn't smile. 

 

"That's sweet of you. First answer some questions. Am I painfully 


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