Male friendship -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
And Lois knew already the inwardness of friendship. Muriel and her
mother had friends. They kissed them and flattered them and entertained
them. At the luncheon table they discussed them. No one but was a tissue
of deceptions, of selfishness, of deceit. Their morals were largely
obstacles they were forever dodging. They flirted--with fops or fools.
They angled--for goldfish. They were miserable at home. One was none too
anxious to have children. One was none too faithful to her husband. All
of them were none too good at all.
Immediately after lunch, Florence was to call for Muriel and take her
for a walk. Florence was violently trying to win the King boy whose
father had nearly a million. But it was hopeless because Mabel--mutual
friend--had told Muriel all about it and _she_ was secretly engaged to
Clifford King. Oh, Aline wouldn’t know! Clifford was bored by Aline.
Muriel and Mabel had had a good laugh over Florence--poor child--such
antics.
“She really loves him, you know.” Muriel smiles complacently. This is an
interesting if somewhat superfluous detail in her wish to wed him. Mrs.
Deane nods, mildly concerned.
Later: “Hello, Florence dearest. I was so afraid you’d be late....”
Indeed, Lois knew already the inwardness of life. Life was, in the
patriarchal term, a “business proposition.” Out of the arcana of the
past her intellect could summon the picture of a free land peopled by
striving men and women. This land was America. Its freedom meant the
opportunity of all “to get along”: to become rich. Men achieved this in
business, women in marriage. The sublime distinction of America was that
no castes interfered with business, and no classes with marriage....
Sharply there emerged from this hallowed field one man and one woman.
The man was her father. He had grown rich by being quick and clever. The
woman was her mother. She had grown rich by being sensible, by seizing
her chance. Romance in their lives was a hidden function, if it existed
at all. It was bound up with the mysteries of birth and sex. These
things took care of themselves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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