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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

 

The leader of the trio nodded authoritatively at a burly man in a check 

suit. 

 

"All right, Olson." 

 

"I got you, Mr. O'May," said Olson, nodding. The other two took a 

curious glance at their quarry and then withdrew, closing the door 

angrily behind them. 

 

The burly man regarded Amory contemptuously. 

 

"Didn't you ever hear of the Mann Act? Coming down here with her," he 

indicated the girl with his thumb, "with a New York license on your 

car--to a hotel like _this_." He shook his head implying that he had 

struggled over Amory but now gave him up. 

 

"Well," said Amory rather impatiently, "what do you want us to do?" 

 

"Get dressed, quick--and tell your friend not to make such a racket." 

Jill was sobbing noisily on the bed, but at these words she subsided 

sulkily and, gathering up her clothes, retired to the bathroom. As Amory 

slipped into Alec's B. V. D.'s he found that his attitude toward the 

situation was agreeably humorous. The aggrieved virtue of the burly man 

made him want to laugh. 

 

"Anybody else here?" demanded Olson, trying to look keen and 

ferret-like. 

 

"Fellow who had the rooms," said Amory carelessly. "He's drunk as an 

owl, though. Been in there asleep since six o'clock." 

 

"I'll take a look at him presently." 

 

"How did you find out?" asked Amory curiously. 

 

"Night clerk saw you go up-stairs with this woman." 

 

Amory nodded; Jill reappeared from the bathroom, completely if rather 

untidily arrayed. 

 

"Now then," began Olson, producing a note-book, "I want your real 

names--no damn John Smith or Mary Brown." 

 

"Wait a minute," said Amory quietly. "Just drop that big-bully stuff. We 

merely got caught, that's all." 

 

Olson glared at him. 

 

"Name?" he snapped. 

 

Amory gave his name and New York address. 

 

"And the lady?" 

 

"Miss Jill--" 

 

"Say," cried Olson indignantly, "just ease up on the nursery rhymes. 

What's your name? Sarah Murphy? Minnie Jackson?" 

 

"Oh, my God!" cried the girl cupping her tear-stained face in her hands. 

"I don't want my mother to know. I don't want my mother to know." 

 

"Come on now!" 

 


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