Give me a cigarette.

You've never seen me smoke, have you?
Well, I do, about once a month." And then that wonderful girl and Amory raced to the corner like two mad children gone wild with pale-blue twilight.
"I'm going to the country for to-morrow," she announced, as she stood panting, safe beyond the flare of the corner lamp-post.

"These days are too magnificent to miss, though perhaps I feel them more in the city." "Oh, Clara!" Amory said; "what a devil you could have been if the Lord had just bent your soul a little the other way!" "Maybe," she answered; "but I think not.

I'm never really wild and never have been.

That little outburst was pure spring." "And you are, too," said he.
They were walking along now.
"No--you're wrong again, how can a person of your own self-reputed brains be so constantly wrong about me?
I'm the opposite of everything spring ever stood for.