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."