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           AtquartertotwelveAmoryshookhandswithhergravely,inthemidstofasmallcrowdassembledtowishhimgood-speed.Foraninstanthelosthispoise,andshefeltabitrattledwhenasatiricalvoicefromaconcealedwitcried:

           "Takeheroutside,Amory!"Ashetookherhandhepresseditalittle,andshereturnedthepressureasshehaddonetotwentyhandsthatevening—thatwasall.

           Attwoo’clockbackattheWeatherbys’SallyaskedherifsheandAmoryhadhada"time"intheden.Isabelleturnedtoherquietly.Inhereyeswasthelightoftheidealist,theinviolatedreamerofJoan-likedreams.

           "No,"sheanswered."Idon’tdothatsortofthinganymore;heaskedmeto,butIsaidno."

           Asshecreptinbedshewonderedwhathe’dsayinhisspecialdeliveryto-morrow.Hehadsuchagood-lookingmouth—wouldsheever—?

           "Fourteenangelswerewatchingo’erthem,"sangSallysleepilyfromthenextroom.

           "Damn!"mutteredIsabelle,punchingthepillowintoaluxuriouslumpandexploringthecoldsheetscautiously."Damn!"

           CARNIVAL

           Amory,bywayofthePrincetonian,hadarrived.Theminorsnobs,finelybalancedthermometersofsuccess,warmedtohimastheclubelectionsgrewnigh,andheandTomwerevisitedbygroupsofupperclassmenwhoarrivedawkwardly,balancedontheedgeofthefurnitureandtalkedofallsubjectsexcepttheoneofabsorbinginterest.