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Updated: May 7, 2025
"No, you see the fact is, my few correspondents rather neglected to send me news," said Lane. The significance of this was lost upon his sister. She giggled. "Hot dog! You've got some kicks coming, I'll say!" "Is that so," returned Lane, with irritation. "A few more or less won't matter.... Lorna, do you know Helen Wrapp?" "That red-headed dame!" burst out Lorna, with heat. "I should smile I do.
"Daren," she asked wistfully, following her own train of thought, "do you know that most of the girls consider me an outcast? Fanchon rides past me with her head up in the air. Helen Wrapp cuts me. Margie looks to see if her mother is watching when she bows to me. Isn't it strange, Daren, how things turn out? Maybe my old friends are right.
"Helen who?" asked his mother. "Helen Wrapp, of course," replied Lane, quickly in his surprise. "The girl I was engaged to when I left." "Oh! I had forgotten," she sighed. "Hasn't Helen been here to see you?" "Let me see well, now you tax me I think she did come once right after you left." "Do you ever see her?" he asked, with slow heave of breast.
Even if the war had not disrupted his mind in an unaccountable way, even if he had loved Helen Wrapp right up to that moment, such singular abandonment to a distorted strange music, to the close and unmistakably sensual embrace of a man that spectacle would have killed his love. Lane turned his gaze away. The young fellow Vancey was pulling at Bessy Bell, and she shook his hand off.
Never in my time have I seen girls find lovers and husbands as easily as now," declared Mrs. Wrapp. "Nor get rid of them so quickly.... Jane, you can marry Margaret. She's pretty and sweet even if you have spoiled her. The years are slipping by. Margaret ought to marry. She's not strong enough to work. Marriage for her would make things so much easier for you." With that parting dig Mrs.
Lane followed that glance and saw Swann. Apparently he did not notice Lorna, and was absorbed in the dance with his own partner, Helen Wrapp. This byplay further excited Lane's curiosity. On the whole, it was an ungraceful, violent mob, almost totally lacking in restraint, whirling, kicking, swaying, clasping, instinctively physical, crude, vulgar and wild.
"What you say may be true generally, but there are exceptions. My daughter has been too well brought up." "Yes, Margie is well-bred," retorted Mrs. Wrapp. "We'll admit she hasn't gone to extremes, as most of our girls have. But I want to observe to you that she has been a wall-flower for a year." "It certainly is a problem," sighed Mrs. Kingsley. "I feel helpless out of it.
"Well, that's where you mothers get in wrong," declared Mrs. Wrapp with her vigorous bluntness. "It's your pride. Just because they're your daughters they are above reproach.... What have you to say about the war babies in town? Did you ever hear of that ten years ago? You bet you didn't. These girls are a speedy set. Some of them are just wild for the sake of wildness.
"I'm sorry to tell you Daren Lane has lost his standing in Middleville." The hum and the honk of a motor-car sounded in the street. "Poor Daren! What's he done?... Any old day he'll care!" Mrs. Maynard was looking out of the window. "Here comes a crowd of girls.... Helen Wrapp has a new suit. Well, I'll go down. And after they leave I want a serious talk with you."
"Daren, I respect you for it. There was a time when I objected to your courting Helen. But I couldn't see into the future. I'm sorry now she broke her engagement to you." "I thank you, Mrs. Wrapp," said Lane, with agitation. "But of course Helen was right. She was too young.... And even if she had been been true to me I would have freed her upon my return." "Indeed. And why, Daren?"
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