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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

 

ALEC: (Still thoughtfully) She won't marry him, but a girl doesn't have 

to marry a man to break his heart. 

 

CECELIA: What does it? I wish I knew the secret. 

 

ALEC: Why, you cold-blooded little kitty. It's lucky for some that the 

Lord gave you a pug nose. 

 

(Enter MRS. CONNAGE.) 

 

MRS. CONNAGE: Where on earth is Rosalind? 

 

ALEC: (Brilliantly) Of course you've come to the best people to find 

out. She'd naturally be with us. 

 

MRS. CONNAGE: Her father has marshalled eight bachelor millionaires to 

meet her. 

 

ALEC: You might form a squad and march through the halls. 

 

MRS. CONNAGE: I'm perfectly serious--for all I know she may be at the 

Cocoanut Grove with some football player on the night of her debut. You 

look left and I'll-- 

 

ALEC: (Flippantly) Hadn't you better send the butler through the cellar? 

 

MRS. CONNAGE: (Perfectly serious) Oh, you don't think she'd be there? 

 

CECELIA: He's only joking, mother. 

 

ALEC: Mother had a picture of her tapping a keg of beer with some high 

hurdler. 

 

MRS. CONNAGE: Let's look right away. 

 

(They go out. ROSALIND comes in with GILLESPIE.) 

 

GILLESPIE: Rosalind--Once more I ask you. Don't you care a blessed thing 

about me? 

 

(AMORY walks in briskly.) 

 

AMORY: My dance. 

 

ROSALIND: Mr. Gillespie, this is Mr. Blaine. 

 

GILLESPIE: I've met Mr. Blaine. From Lake Geneva, aren't you? 

 

AMORY: Yes. 

 

GILLESPIE: (Desperately) I've been there. It's in the--the Middle West, 

isn't it? 

 

AMORY: (Spicily) Approximately. But I always felt that I'd rather be 

provincial hot-tamale than soup without seasoning. 

 

GILLESPIE: What! 

 

AMORY: Oh, no offense. 

 

(GILLESPIE bows and leaves.) 

 

ROSALIND: He's too much _people_. 

 

AMORY: I was in love with a _people_ once. 

 

ROSALIND: So? 

 

AMORY: Oh, yes--her name was Isabelle--nothing at all to her except what 

I read into her. 

 

ROSALIND: What happened? 

 

AMORY: Finally I convinced her that she was smarter than I was--then she 

threw me over. Said I was critical and impractical, you know. 

 

ROSALIND: What do you mean impractical? 

 


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