certain variant, changing person, whose label, in order that his past
might always be identified with him, was Amory Blaine. Amory marked
himself a fortunate youth, capable of infinite expansion for good or
evil. He did not consider himself a "strong char'c'ter," but relied on
his facility (learn things sorta quick) and his superior mentality (read
a lotta deep books). He was proud of the fact that he could never become
a mechanical or scientific genius. From no other heights was he debarred.

Physically.--Amory thought that he was exceedingly handsome. He was.
He fancied himself an athlete of possibilities and a supple dancer.

Socially.--Here his condition was, perhaps, most dangerous. He granted
himself personality, charm, magnetism, poise, the power of dominating all
contemporary males, the gift of fascinating all women.

Mentally.--Complete, unquestioned superiority.

Now a confession will have to be made. Amory had rather a Puritan
conscience. Not that he yielded to it--later in life he almost
completely slew it--but at fifteen it made him consider himself a great
deal worse than other boys . . . unscrupulousness . . . the desire to
influence people in almost every way, even for evil . . . a certain
coldness and lack of affection, amounting sometimes to cruelty . . .
a shifting sense of honor . . . an unholy selfishness . . . a puzzled,
furtive interest in everything concerning sex.

There was, also, a curious strain of weakness running crosswise through
his make-up . . . a harsh phrase from the lips of an older boy (older
boys usually detested him) was liable to sweep him off his poise into
surly sensitiveness, or timid stupidity . . . he was a slave to his own