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The Egotist Becomes a Personage
"Won’tyoucomeinforlunch?"
Amoryshookhishead.
"Thankyou,Mr.Ferrenby,butI’vegottogeton."
Thebigmanheldouthishand.AmorysawthatthefactthathehadknownJessemorethanoutweighedanydisfavorhehadcreatedbyhisopinions.Whatghostswerepeoplewithwhichtowork!Eventhelittlemaninsistedonshakinghands.
"Good-by!"shoutedMr.Ferrenby,asthecarturnedthecornerandstartedupthedrive."Goodlucktoyouandbadlucktoyourtheories."
"Sametoyou,sir,"criedAmory,smilingandwavinghishand.
"OUTOFTHEFIRE,OUTOFTHELITTLEROOM"
EighthoursfromPrincetonAmorysatdownbytheJerseyroadsideandlookedatthefrost-bittencountry.Natureasarathercoarsephenomenoncomposedlargelyofflowersthat,whencloselyinspected,appearedmoth-eaten,andofantsthatendlesslytraversedbladesofgrass,wasalwaysdisillusioning;naturerepresentedbyskiesandwatersandfarhorizonswasmorelikable.Frostandthepromiseofwinterthrilledhimnow,madehimthinkofawildbattlebetweenSt.RegisandGroton,agesago,sevenyearsago—andofanautumndayinFrancetwelvemonthsbeforewhenhehadlainintallgrass,hisplatoonflatteneddownclosearoundhim,waitingtotaptheshouldersofaLewisgunner.Hesawthetwopicturestogetherwithsomewhatthesameprimitiveexaltation—twogameshehadplayed,differinginqualityofacerbity,linkedinawaythatdifferedthemfromRosalindorthesubjectoflabyrinthswhichwere,afterall,thebusinessoflife.
"Iamselfish,"hethought.
