"Man!" he shouted so loud that the people on the corner turned and
followed them with their eyes, "it's filthy, and if you can't see it,
you're filthy, too!"
"I can't help it," said Sloane doggedly. "What's the matter with you?
Old remorse getting you? You'd be in a fine state if you'd gone through
with our little party."
"I'm going, Fred," said Amory slowly. His knees were shaking under him,
and he knew that if he stayed another minute on this street he would keel
over where he stood. "I'll be at the Vanderbilt for lunch." And he
strode rapidly off and turned over to Fifth Avenue. Back at the hotel he
felt better, but as he walked into the barber-shop, intending to get a
head massage, the smell of the powders and tonics brought back Axia's
sidelong, suggestive smile, and he left hurriedly. In the doorway of his
room a sudden blackness flowed around him like a divided river.
When he came to himself he knew that several hours had passed. He
pitched onto the bed and rolled over on his face with a deadly fear that
he was going mad. He wanted people, people, some one sane and stupid and
good.
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