Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott (Francis Scott) Fitzgerald
page 83 of 401 (20%)
page 83 of 401 (20%)
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"Good-by," he repeated. He turned the door-knob.
But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated themselves violently toward him. "Oh, Perry, don't leave me! Perry, Perry, take me with you!" Her tears flowed damply on his neck. Calmly he folded his arms about her. "I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a minister at this hour and have it done over again I'll go West with you." Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part of the camel--and they exchanged a particularly subtle, esoteric sort of wink that only true camels can understand. MAY DAY There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the brasses, while merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding |
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