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The Egotist Considers
Heworenoshoes,but,instead,asortofhalfmoccasin,pointed,though,liketheshoestheyworeinthefourteenthcentury,andwiththelittleendscurlingup.Theywereadarkishbrownandhistoesseemedtofillthemtotheend....Theywereunutterablyterrible....
Hemusthavesaidsomething,orlookedsomething,forAxia’svoicecameoutofthevoidwithastrangegoodness.
"Well,lookatAmory!PooroldAmory’ssick—oldheadgoing’round?"
"Lookatthatman!"criedAmory,pointingtowardthecornerdivan.
"Youmeanthatpurplezebra!"shriekedAxiafacetiously."Ooo-ee!Amory’sgotapurplezebrawatchinghim!"
Sloanelaughedvacantly.
"Olezebragotcha,Amory?"
Therewasasilence....ThemanregardedAmoryquizzically....Thenthehumanvoicesfellfaintlyonhisear:
"Thoughtyouweren’tdrinking,"remarkedAxiasardonically,buthervoicewasgoodtohear;thewholedivanthatheldthemanwasalive;alivelikeheatwavesoverasphalt,likewrigglingworms....
"Comeback!Comeback!"Axia’sarmfellonhis."Amory,dear,youaren’tgoing,Amory!"Hewashalf-waytothedoor.
"Comeon,Amory,stick’thus!"
"Sick,areyou?"
"Sitdownasecond!"
"Takesomewater."
"Takealittlebrandy...."
Theelevatorwasclose,andthecoloredboywashalfasleep,paledtoalividbronze...Axia’sbeseechingvoicefloateddowntheshaft.Thosefeet...thosefeet...
Astheysettledtothelowerfloorthefeetcameintoviewinthesicklyelectriclightofthepavedhall.
