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"
I
'm
tres
old
and
tres
bored
,
Tom
,
"
said
Amory
one
day
,
stretching
himself
at
ease
in
the
comfortable
window-seat
.
He
always
felt
most
natural
in
a
recumbent
position
.
"
You
used
to
be
entertaining
before
you
started
to
write
,
"
he
continued
.
"
Now
you
save
any
idea
that
you
think
would
do
to
print
.
"
Existence
had
settled
back
to
an
ambitionless
normality
.
They
had
decided
that
with
economy
they
could
still
afford
the
apartment
,
which
Tom
,
with
the
domesticity
of
an
elderly
cat
,
had
grown
fond
of
.
The
old
English
hunting
prints
on
the
wall
were
Tom
's
,
and
the
large
tapestry
by
courtesy
,
a
relic
of
decadent
days
in
college
,
and
the
great
profusion
of
orphaned
candlesticks
and
the
carved
Louis
XV
chair
in
which
no
one
could
sit
more
than
a
minute
without
acute
spinal
disorders
--
Tom
claimed
that
this
was
because
one
was
sitting
in
the
lap
of
Montespan
's
wraith
--
at
any
rate
,
it
was
Tom
's
furniture
that
decided
them
to
stay
.
They
went
out
very
little
:
to
an
occasional
play
,
or
to
dinner
at
the
Ritz
or
the
Princeton
Club
.
With
prohibition
the
great
rendezvous
had
received
their
death
wounds
;
no
longer
could
one
wander
to
the
Biltmore
bar
at
twelve
or
five
and
find
congenial
spirits
,
and
both
Tom
and
Amory
had
outgrown
the
passion
for
dancing
with
mid-Western
or
New
Jersey
debbies
at
the
Club-de-Vingt
(
surnamed
the
"
Club
de
Gink
"
)
or
the
Plaza
Rose
Room
--
besides
even
that
required
several
cocktails
"
to
come
down
to
the
intellectual
level
of
the
women
present
,
"
as
Amory
had
once
put
it
to
a
horrified
matron
.
Amory
had
lately
received
several
alarming
letters
from
Mr.
Barton
--
the
Lake
Geneva
house
was
too
large
to
be
easily
rented
;
the
best
rent
obtainable
at
present
would
serve
this
year
to
little
more
than
pay
for
the
taxes
and
necessary
improvements
;
in
fact
,
the
lawyer
suggested
that
the
whole
property
was
simply
a
white
elephant
on
Amory
's
hands
.
Nevertheless
,
even
though
it
might
not
yield
a
cent
for
the
next
three
years
,
Amory
decided
with
a
vague
sentimentality
that
for
the
present
,
at
any
rate
,
he
would
not
sell
the
house
.
This
particular
day
on
which
he
announced
his
ennui
to
Tom
had
been
quite
typical
.
He
had
risen
at
noon
,
lunched
with
Mrs.
Lawrence
,
and
then
ridden
abstractedly
homeward
atop
one
of
his
beloved
buses
.
"
Why
should
n't
you
be
bored
,
"
yawned
Tom
.
"
Is
n't
that
the
conventional
frame
of
mind
for
the
young
man
of
your
age
and
condition
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Amory
speculatively
,
"
but
I
'm
more
than
bored
;
I
am
restless
.
"
"
Love
and
war
did
for
you
.
"
