D: I love you--now.

(They kiss.)

AMORY: Oh, God, what have I done?

ROSALIND: Nothing. Oh, don't talk. Kiss me again.

AMORY: I don't know why or how, but I love you--from the moment I saw
you.

ROSALIND: Me too--I--I--oh, to-night's to-night.

(Her brother strolls in, starts and then in a loud voice says: "Oh,
excuse me," and goes.)

ROSALIND: (Her lips scarcely stirring) Don't let me go--I don't care who
knows what I do.

AMORY: Say it!

ROSALIND: I love you--now. (They part.) Oh--I am very youthful, thank
God--and rather beautiful, thank God--and happy, thank God, thank
God--(She pauses and then, in an odd burst of prophecy, adds) Poor
Amory!

(He kisses her again.)

*****

KISMET

Within two weeks Amory and Rosalind were deeply and passionately in
love. The critical qualities which had spoiled for each of them a dozen
romances were dulled by the great wave of emotion that washed over them.

"It may be an insane love-affair," she told her anxious mother, "but
it's not inane."

The wave swept Amory into an advertising agency early in March, where
he alternated between astonishing bursts of rather exceptional work and
wild dreams of becoming suddenly rich and touring Italy with Rosalind.

They were together constantly, for lunch, for dinner, and nearly every
evening--always in a sort of breathless hush, as if they feared that any
minute the spell would break and drop them out of this paradise of rose
and flame. But the spell became a trance, seemed to increase from day
to day; they began to talk of marrying in July--in June. All life was
transmitted into terms of their love, all experience, all desires, all
ambitions, were nullified--their senses of humor crawled into corners to
sleep; their former love-affairs seemed faintly laughable and scarcely
regretted juvenalia.

For the second time in his life Amory had had a complete bouleversement
and was hurrying into line with his generation.

*****

A LITTLE INTERLUDE

Amory wandered slowly up the avenue and thought of the night as
inevitably his--the pageantry and carnival of rich dusk and dim streets
... it seemed that he had closed the book of fading harmonies at last
and stepped into the sensuous vibrant walks of life. Everywhere these
countless lights, this promise of a night of streets and singing--he
moved in a half-dream through the crowd as if expecting to meet Rosalind
hurrying toward him with eager feet from eve