Oh, you'll be coy and he Will simulate precosity, And pedants both, you'll smile and smirk, And leer, and hasten back to work....
'Twas this day week, sir, you returned A theme of mine, from which I learned (Through various comment on the side Which you had scrawled) that I defied The _highest rules of criticism_ For _cheap_ and _careless_ witticism....
'Are you quite sure that this could be ?' And 'Shaw is no authority!' But Eager Ass, with what he's sent, Plays havoc with your best per cent.
Still--still I meet you here and there...
When Shakespeare's played you hold a chair, And some defunct, moth-eaten star Enchants the mental prig you are...
A radical comes down and shocks The atheistic orthodox?
You're representing Common Sense, Mouth open, in the audience.
And, sometimes, even chapel lures That conscious tolerance of yours, That broad and beaming view of truth (Including Kant and General Booth...) And so from shock to shock you live, A hollow, pale affirmative...
The hour's up...

and roused from rest One hundred children of the blest Cheat you a word or two with feet That down the noisy aisle-ways beat...
Forget on _narrow-minded earth_ The Mighty Yawn that gave you birth." In April, Kerry Holiday left college and sailed for France to enroll in the Lafayette Esquadrille.

Amory's envy and admiration of this step was drowned in an experience of his own to which he never succeeded in giving an appropriate value, but which, nevertheless, haunted him for three years afterward.
***** THE DEVIL Healy's they left at twelve and taxied to Bistolary's.

There were Axia Marlowe and Phoebe Column, from the Summer Garden show, Fred Sloane and Amory.

The evening was so very young that they felt ridiculous with surplus energy, and burst into the cafe like Dionysian revellers.
"Table for four in the middle of the floor," yelled Phoebe.