The Supercilious Sacrifice
AtlanticCity.Amorypacedtheboardwalkatday’send,lulledbytheeverlastingsurgeofchangingwaves,smellingthehalf-mournfulodorofthesaltbreeze.Thesea,hethought,hadtreasureditsmemoriesdeeperthanthefaithlessland.ItseemedstilltowhisperofNorsegalleysploughingthewaterworldunderraven-figuredflags,oftheBritishdreadnoughts,graybulwarksofcivilizationsteamingupthroughthefogofonedarkJulyintotheNorthSea.
"Well—AmoryBlaine!"
Amorylookeddownintothestreetbelow.Alowracingcarhaddrawntoastopandafamiliarcheerfulfaceprotrudedfromthedriver’sseat.
"Comeondown,goopher!"criedAlec.
Amorycalledagreetinganddescendingaflightofwoodenstepsapproachedthecar.HeandAlechadbeenmeetingintermittently,butthebarrierofRosalindlayalwaysbetweenthem.Hewassorryforthis;hehatedtoloseAlec.
"Mr.Blaine,thisisMissWaterson,MissWayne,andMr.Tully."
"Howd’ydo?"
"Amory,"saidAlecexuberantly,"ifyou’lljumpinwe’lltakeyoutosomesecludednookandgiveyouaweejoltofBourbon."
Amoryconsidered.
"That’sanidea."
"Stepin—moveover,Jill,andAmorywillsmileveryhandsomelyatyou."
Amorysqueezedintothebackseatbesideagaudy,vermilion-lippedblonde.
"Hello,DougFairbanks,"shesaidflippantly."Walkingforexerciseorhuntingforcompany?"
"Iwascountingthewaves,"repliedAmorygravely."I’mgoinginforstatistics."
"Don’tkidme,Doug."