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Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott (Francis Scott) Fitzgerald
page 83 of 401 (20%)
"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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