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Updated: May 18, 2025
A short walk round the block brought them into a shaded, wide street with one of Middleville's parks on the left. A row of luxuriant elm trees helped the effect of gloom. The nearest electric light was across on the far corner, with trees obscuring it to some extent. At the corner where Pepper halted there was an outside stairway running up the old-fashioned building.
"But cut it, and hurry to to what comes home to me. What's the matter with these Middleville girls?" "Lane, any intelligent man, who knows things, and who can think for himself, will tell you this that to judge from the dress, dance, talk, conduct of these young girls most of them have apparently gone wrong." "You include our nice girls from what we used to call Middleville's best families?"
On this April afternoon the tea was neglected in the cups, and there was nothing of the usual mild gossip. The discussion involved Daren Lane, and when two of those social arbiters settled back in their chairs the open sesame of Middleville's select affairs had been denied to him. "Why did he do it?" asked Mrs. Kingsley. "He must have been under the influence of liquor," replied Mrs.
I'm an old gambler, Lane. I've lived in many towns and mixed in tough crowds of crooked men and rotten women. But I'm here to confess that this after-the-war stuff of Middleville's better class has knocked out about all the faith I had left in human nature.... Then you came along to teach me a lesson." "Well, Pepper, that's strong talk," returned Lane.
The Swanns, and Fanchon Smith, with her brother and mother, Gerald Hartley and his bride, Helen Wrapp, and a number of others prominent as Middleville's elect were recognizable by their voices. While he was sitting there, trying not to hear what he could not help hearing, a number more arrived. They talked.
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