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Table of contents
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

as well. Economics had interested him and he was turning socialist. 

Pacifism played in the back of his mind, and he read The Masses and 

Lyoff Tolstoi faithfully. 

 

"How about religion?" Amory asked him. 

 

"Don't know. I'm in a muddle about a lot of things--I've just discovered 

that I've a mind, and I'm starting to read." 

 

"Read what?" 

 

"Everything. I have to pick and choose, of course, but mostly things to 

make me think. I'm reading the four gospels now, and the 'Varieties of 

Religious Experience.'" 

 

"What chiefly started you?" 

 

"Wells, I guess, and Tolstoi, and a man named Edward Carpenter. I've 

been reading for over a year now--on a few lines, on what I consider the 

essential lines." 

 

"Poetry?" 

 

"Well, frankly, not what you call poetry, or for your reasons--you two 

write, of course, and look at things differently. Whitman is the man 

that attracts me." 

 

"Whitman?" 

 

"Yes; he's a definite ethical force." 

 

"Well, I'm ashamed to say that I'm a blank on the subject of Whitman. 

How about you, Tom?" 

 

Tom nodded sheepishly. 

 

"Well," continued Burne, "you may strike a few poems that are tiresome, 

but I mean the mass of his work. He's tremendous--like Tolstoi. They 

both look things in the face, and, somehow, different as they are, stand 

for somewhat the same things." 

 

"You have me stumped, Burne," Amory admitted. "I've read 'Anna Karenina' 

and the 'Kreutzer Sonata' of course, but Tolstoi is mostly in the 

original Russian as far as I'm concerned." 

 

"He's the greatest man in hundreds of years," cried Burne 

enthusiastically. "Did you ever see a picture of that shaggy old head of 

his?" 

 

They talked until three, from biology to organized religion, and when 

Amory crept shivering into bed it was with his mind aglow with ideas 

and a sense of shock that some one else had discovered the path he might 

have followed. Burne Holiday was so evidently developing--and Amory 

had considered that he was doing the same. He had fallen into a deep 

cynicism over what had crossed his path, plotted the imperfectability of 


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