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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

CHAPTER 4. The Supercilious Sacrifice

 

 

 

Atlantic City. Amory paced the board walk at day's end, lulled by the 

everlasting surge of changing waves, smelling the half-mournful odor of 

the salt breeze. The sea, he thought, had treasured its memories deeper 

than the faithless land. It seemed still to whisper of Norse galleys 

ploughing the water world under raven-figured flags, of the British 

dreadnoughts, gray bulwarks of civilization steaming up through the fog 

of one dark July into the North Sea. 

 

"Well--Amory Blaine!" 

 

Amory looked down into the street below. A low racing car had drawn to a 

stop and a familiar cheerful face protruded from the driver's seat. 

 

"Come on down, goopher!" cried Alec. 

 

Amory called a greeting and descending a flight of wooden steps 

approached the car. He and Alec had been meeting intermittently, but the 

barrier of Rosalind lay always between them. He was sorry for this; he 

hated to lose Alec. 

 

"Mr. Blaine, this is Miss Waterson, Miss Wayne, and Mr. Tully." 

 

"How d'y do?" 

 

"Amory," said Alec exuberantly, "if you'll jump in we'll take you to 

some secluded nook and give you a wee jolt of Bourbon." 

 

Amory considered. 

 

"That's an idea." 

 

"Step in--move over, Jill, and Amory will smile very handsomely at you." 

 

Amory squeezed into the back seat beside a gaudy, vermilion-lipped 

blonde. 

 

"Hello, Doug Fairbanks," she said flippantly. "Walking for exercise or 

hunting for company?" 

 

"I was counting the waves," replied Amory gravely. "I'm going in for 

statistics." 

 

"Don't kid me, Doug." 

 

When they reached an unfrequented side street Alec stopped the car among 

deep shadows. 

 

"What you doing down here these cold days, Amory?" he demanded, as he 

produced a quart of Bourbon from under the fur rug. 

 

Amory avoided the question. Indeed, he had had no definite reason for 

coming to the coast. 

 

"Do you remember that party of ours, sophomore year?" he asked instead. 

 

"Do I? When we slept in the pavilions up in Asbury Park--" 

 

"Lord, Alec! It's hard to think that Jesse and Dick and Kerry are all 


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