For the second time in his life Amory had had a complete bouleversement and was hurrying into line with his generation.
***** A LITTLE INTERLUDE Amory wandered slowly up the avenue and thought of the night as inevitably his--the pageantry and carnival of rich dusk and dim streets ... it seemed that he had closed the book of fading harmonies at last and stepped into the sensuous vibrant walks of life. Everywhere these countless lights, this promise of a night of streets and singing--he moved in a half-dream through the crowd as if expecting to meet Rosalind hurrying toward him with eager feet from every corner.... How the unforgettable faces of dusk would blend to her, the myriad footsteps, a thousand overtures, would blend to her footsteps; and there would be more drunkenness than wine in the softness of her eyes on his. Even his dreams now were faint violins drifting like summer sounds upon the summer air.
The room was in darkness except for the faint glow of Tom's cigarette where he lounged by the open window. As the door shut behind him, Amory stood a moment with his back against it.
"Hello, Benvenuto Blaine. How went the advertising business to-day?"
Amory sprawled on a couch.
"I loathed it as usual!" The momentary vision of the bustling agency was displaced quickly by another picture.
"My God! She's wonderful!"
Tom sighed.
"I can't tell you," repeated Amory, "just how wonderful she is. I don't want you to know. I don't want any one to know."
Another sigh came from the window--quite a resigned sigh.
"She's life and hope and happiness, my whole world now."
He felt the quiver of a tear on his eyelid.
"Oh, Golly, Tom!"
***** BITTER SWEET "Sit like we do," she whispered.
He sat in the big chair and held out his arms so that she could nestle inside them.
"I knew you'd come to-night," she said softly, "like summer, just when I needed you most... darling... darling..."
His lips moved lazily over her face.
"You taste so good," he sighed.
"How do you mean, lover?"
"Oh, just sweet, just sweet..." he held her closer.
"Amory," she whispered, "when you're ready for me I'll marry you."
"We won't have much at first."
"Don't!" she cried. "It hurts when you reproach yourself for what you can't give me. I've got your precious self--and that's enough for me."
"Tell me..."
"You know, don't you? Oh, you know."