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Amory, Son of Beatrice
"Ofcourse.You’llhateschoolforawhile,too,butI’mgladyou’regoingtoSt.Regis’s."
"Why?"
"Becauseit’sagentleman’sschool,anddemocracywon’thityousoearly.You’llfindplentyofthatincollege."
"IwanttogotoPrinceton,"saidAmory."Idon’tknowwhy,butIthinkofallHarvardmenassissies,likeIusedtobe,andallYalemenaswearingbigbluesweatersandsmokingpipes."
Monsignorchuckled.
"I’mone,youknow."
"Oh,you’redifferent—IthinkofPrincetonasbeinglazyandgood-lookingandaristocratic—youknow,likeaspringday.Harvardseemssortofindoors—"
"AndYaleisNovember,crispandenergetic,"finishedMonsignor.
"That’sit."
Theyslippedbrisklyintoanintimacyfromwhichtheyneverrecovered.
"IwasforBonniePrinceCharlie,"announcedAmory.
"Ofcourseyouwere—andforHannibal—"
"Yes,andfortheSouthernConfederacy."HewasratherscepticalaboutbeinganIrishpatriot—hesuspectedthatbeingIrishwasbeingsomewhatcommon—butMonsignorassuredhimthatIrelandwasaromanticlostcauseandIrishpeoplequitecharming,andthatitshould,byallmeans,beoneofhisprincipalbiasses.
Afteracrowdedhourwhichincludedseveralmorecigarettes,andduringwhichMonsignorlearned,tohissurprisebutnottohishorror,thatAmoryhadnotbeenbroughtupaCatholic,heannouncedthathehadanotherguest.