Then she turns and looks once
more at the room. Here they had sat and dreamed: that tray she had so
often filled with matches for him; that shade that they had discreetly
lowered one long Sunday afternoon. Misty-eyed she stands and remembers;
she speaks aloud.) Oh, Amory, what have I done to you?
(And deep under the aching sadness that will pass in time, Rosalind feels
that she has lost something, she knows not what, she knows not why.)
BOOK TWO
The Education of a Personage
CHAPTER 2
Experiments in Convalescence
The Knickerbocker Bar, beamed upon by Maxfield Parrish's jovial, colorful
"Old King Cole," was well crowded. Amory stopped in the entrance and
looked at his wrist-watch; he wanted particularly to know the time,
for something in his mind that catalogued and classified liked to chip
things off cleanly. Later it would satisfy him in a vague way to be
able to think "that thing ended at exactly twenty minutes after eight on
Thursday, June 10, 1919." This was allowing for the walk from her house--
a walk concerning which he had afterward not the faintest recollection.
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