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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

 

"All right," Amory interrupted. "Now go back to yourself." 

 

"Well, I will. I'm one of those people who go through the world giving 

other people thrills, but getting few myself except those I read into 

men on such nights as these. I have the social courage to go on the 

stage, but not the energy; I haven't the patience to write books; and I 

never met a man I'd marry. However, I'm only eighteen." 

 

The storm was dying down softly and only the wind kept up its ghostly 

surge and made the stack lean and gravely settle from side to side. 

Amory was in a trance. He felt that every moment was precious. He had 

never met a girl like this before--she would never seem quite the same 

again. He didn't at all feel like a character in a play, the appropriate 

feeling in an unconventional situation--instead, he had a sense of 

coming home. 

 

"I have just made a great decision," said Eleanor after another pause, 

"and that is why I'm here, to answer another of your questions. I have 

just decided that I don't believe in immortality." 

 

"Really! how banal!" 

 

"Frightfully so," she answered, "but depressing with a stale, sickly 

depression, nevertheless. I came out here to get wet--like a wet hen; 

wet hens always have great clarity of mind," she concluded. 

 

"Go on," Amory said politely. 

 

"Well--I'm not afraid of the dark, so I put on my slicker and rubber 

boots and came out. You see I was always afraid, before, to say I didn't 

believe in God--because the lightning might strike me--but here I am and 

it hasn't, of course, but the main point is that this time I wasn't any 

more afraid of it than I had been when I was a Christian Scientist, like 

I was last year. So now I know I'm a materialist and I was fraternizing 

with the hay when you came out and stood by the woods, scared to death." 

 

"Why, you little wretch--" cried Amory indignantly. "Scared of what?" 

 

"_Yourself!_" she shouted, and he jumped. She clapped her hands and 

laughed. "See--see! Conscience--kill it like me! Eleanor Savage, 

materiologist--no jumping, no starting, come early--" 


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