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Spires and Gargoyles

           ThendowndesertedProspectandalongMcCoshwithsongeverywherearoundthem,uptothehotjovialityofNassauStreet.

           TomD’InvilliersandAmorywalkedlateinthosedays.Agamblingfeversweptthroughthesophomoreclassandtheybentoverthebonestillthreeo’clockmanyasultrynight.AfteronesessiontheycameoutofSloane’sroomtofindthedewfallenandthestarsoldinthesky.

           "Let’sborrowbicyclesandtakearide,"Amorysuggested.

           "Allright.I’mnotabittiredandthisisalmostthelastnightoftheyear,really,becausethepromstuffstartsMonday."

           TheyfoundtwounlockedbicyclesinHolderCourtandrodeoutabouthalf-pastthreealongtheLawrencevilleRoad.

           "Whatareyougoingtodothissummer,Amory?"

           "Don’taskmesameoldthings,Isuppose.AmonthortwoinLakeGenevaI’mcountingonyoutobethereinJuly,youknowthenthere’llbeMinneapolis,andthatmeanshundredsofsummerhops,parlor-snaking,gettingboredButoh,Tom,"headdedsuddenly,"hasn’tthisyearbeenslick!"

           "No,"declaredTomemphatically,anewTom,clothedbyBrooks,shodbyFranks,"I’vewonthisgame,butIfeelasifIneverwanttoplayanother.You’reallrightyou’rearubberball,andsomehowitsuitsyou,butI’msickofadaptingmyselftothelocalsnobbishnessofthiscorneroftheworld.Iwanttogowherepeoplearen’tbarredbecauseofthecoloroftheirnecktiesandtherolloftheircoats."

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