Episode 14 - Flaming Youth

Hello and happy new year, my lovely listeners! Welcome back to the Forgotten Library; as always, I’m Nikki Gee. Let’s start the year off with a ride in my Wayback Machine – to the year 1923, and take a look at a flapper novel that wasn’t penned by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and in fact, was written by someone who published it under a pseudonym due to its scandalous content. Today’s selection is Flaming Youth, by Warner Fabian, or his real name, Samuel Hopkins Adams. Hat tip to my friend, David, for suggesting this title for the show!

Samuel Hopkins Adams was born in 1871 in Dunkirk, a small town in New York state. His father, Myron, was a minister and they might have been distantly related to the presidential branch of that family name. Samuel graduated from Hamilton College, following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, and became a journalist, first reporting for the New York Sun in 1891, then moving on to McClure’s Magazine in 1900. McClure’s was an illustrated periodical that published both journalism and literature; within its pages, you could find pieces by Rudyard Kipling, Willa Cather, and Mark Twain, as well as what would become known as muckraking journalism by Adams, Ida Tarbell, and Upton Sinclair (whose novel The Jungle is still required reading in many American schools).

Adams developed a penchant for penning articles focused on public health issues, from the latest advances in cancer treatments (radical surgery in 1913 was considered the best option) to promoting vaccination against smallpox. He wrote a series of articles for Collier’s Magazine in 1905, called The Great American Fraud, warning the public about patent medicines and other quackery. These articles, along with works by Sinclair and research into adulterated food by Dr. Harvey Wiley, helped lead to the passage of the Pure Food and Drug Act the following year, which paved the way for the Food and Drug Administration as we know it today.

In addition to writing his investigative articles, Adams also wrote short stories and novels, several of which had a historical bent: Revelry, published in 1926, was based on the scandals of the Harding administration; while Tenderloin, published posthumously in 1959, took on Tammany Hall. And of course, several of which he wrote under the name Warner Fabian, due to what would have been risqué content at the time. Several works of Adams, under his pen name or not, were made into movies and even musicals – Flaming Youth (starring Colleen Moore, a popular silent film star), It Happened One Night (starring Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable, based on a short story Adams wrote called “Night Bus”), and The Harvey Girls (a movie musical adaptation starring Judy Garland). Unfortunately, only a portion of the film Flaming Youth survives today, and is housed at the Library of Congress.

Enough preamble. Let’s get to the book (and some swell twenties slang)!

[break – something jazzy?]

A Word from the Writer to the Reader. Fabian dons the disguise of a doctor for this piece, and states that men have no idea what women are like. The exception to this rule, of course, is the family physician, who knows all, but is bound by the honor of his profession to not say anything. And yet, he feels the need to disclose what the young women are like today, and so he is using this screen, and fake family and place names, to tell the tale.

The book begins with a conversation between Mona Fentriss, the matriarch of this fictional family, and the family physician, Robert Osterhout, who is affectionately known as Bob or Bobs, this latter nickname bestowed on him by the daughters. She asks him if “this” is final, and he confirms it, but neither expressly states what “this” is. A few sentences on, we’re to presume that Mona is dying from . . . something, as she ruminates about who will bring up her daughters and take care of her husband, Ralph. Ralph comes home and they have drinks, despite Prohibition. Then Mona sends Ralph away and asks Bob if many women confess to their doctors. The thrust of this conversation is that Mona hasn’t always been the most faithful wife, but Ralph hasn’t been “true” for years and years; as she says, she’s “not the Scarlet woman, only a dash of pink.”

Ralph is playing the piano downstairs and they listen as Patricia, the youngest daughter, joins in singing with the music. Mona reflects that she was an accident, and she thought that the little one would bring her and Ralph closer together, but of course, that didn’t happen. Then she turns her attentions to Bob and asks him why HE never made a play for her, and he admits that he didn’t want to lose what they already had. He says that he’s a romantic, and she isn’t; but she says that she was, once upon a time. His name was Cary Scott; they met in Paris when he was studying at the university. He was crazy over her, but she never let it go very far. He still sends her cards. In closing, she asks Bob to keep an eye on her girls for her after she is gone, as she knows Ralph will be absolutely hopeless.

The next bit goes a little deeper into the family and its environs. The fictional town in which they live is called Dorrisdale, and their house is called Holiday Knoll, as apparently it sits on one overlooking the Country Club; they are fashionable people and are always entertaining visitors. The Fentrisses have three daughters: Constance, or Connie; Mary Delia, or Dee; and Patricia, or Pat. Mona has never really impressed her authority upon them, and they pretty much do as they please. They each have their own rooms, into which she never interferes. Ralph goes early to the city for his job and often comes home late. Neither spouse seems to be affected much by what the other does, despite gossips’ talk.

Dr. Bob lives nearby in a small home, where he performs his experiments on “ductless glands,” which I presume means he is an endocrinologist by specialty. He also lectures at the University, and his private practice is wending towards retirement; the Fentrisses are pretty much the only family he sees now. He also, conveniently, has some wealth to his name, so he can live in this community without much hardship. And he’s been in love with Mona for years. Mona doesn’t feel that way about him, of course, but they’ve shared a deep friendship over the years and she tells him many things she wouldn’t have told anyone else. Which, after bombarding us with all this text, we dissolve into a scene where Mona is talking about her family with Bob. (Much of this book seems to be written like a movie script, despite the fact that the movie version came later).

Mona suggests that he marry one of her daughters to stay close to the family after she is gone. Connie is most like her, and 22, which is half of Bob’s age, but Mona says she would mature pretty quickly. What about Dee? They seem to get along pretty well, but Mona thinks that’s because Dee doesn’t seem to care much about men right now. The good doctor says that is because she’s just not “awakened” yet, and “there’s hot blood under that cool skin.” That just seems a squicky way to put it, eh? He predicts she will wake up after she’s married, like many unfortunate young women do. Mona says that he could learn to care for Dee, and buzzes the maid to call her in to the room. The impression the modern reader gets of her is that she is athletic and tomboyish, attractive in her own way, but not conventionally beautiful – with poise and directness.

She also is quite witty, as the exchange that follows shows. Mona asks Dee if she’d like to marry Bob, and she says, “I thought he was your special property. Why mark him down? It isn’t bargain day.” She says he’s old, and remarks that he doesn’t flinch, which means he is well-aware of his age. He tells her if she was his wife, he’d beat her, and she sparkles at him that she’d like to see him try. Then they fake-spar for a bit, and she says she takes the comment back. But anyway, despite the case Mona makes for him, she will have to decline. Jimmy James is the guy she’s been seeing, and while they aren’t engaged yet, she’s sure it will be soon, maybe next time she kisses him. Bob asks how many times that would be, and jokes that she hasn’t counted, but there haven’t been too many petting parties, which mildly scandalizes Bob. Mona just remarks that it’s modern times, and he corrects that it’s “dangerous times,” but Dee says not to worry, she has her hand on the emergency brake at all times.

This conversation is interrupted by Pat bellowing for Bobs from downstairs, as she has a cut on her knee that requires attention. Dee says that Bob should marry Pat, as no one else ever will. Pat yells at her that she’s a liar, and she’s sure that she’ll be married before she’s Dee’s age, and to a better guy than Jimmy James. She calls him a chaser, which I presume is a skirt-chaser, a player.

Bob leaves and Mona and Dee continue their conversation about Jimmy. Mona thought he was still seeing another girl named Ada, but Dee claims that he is through with her. Dee is sure it probably “went the limit,” which means he had sex with Ada, but she never thought Jimmy was “President of the Purity League,” as she puts it. She really cares for him, but he doesn’t give her a thrill; no one has. Mona says that perhaps he’s not the one, then, and she asks her mother what that feels like, that thrill. Mona is a bit embarrassed by this question and says that some things a woman must figure out for herself. Changing the subject, Dee asks if they’re going to throw a big party in the spring, and Mona says they need to do it pretty soon, but doesn’t respond when her daughter asks why she has a strange look on her face.

Apparently, she is dying of heart failure, but hasn’t yet told anyone. Mainly because of her pride, but also she doesn’t want to be the object of pity during her dying days and would rather go out in a blaze of admiration, I suppose. Yeah, okay, so don’t tell the neighborhood, but at least tell your children! They’re not babies. Ew.

We fast-forward to the party, where the booze is free-flowing, the musicians are in fine fettle (also due to the rounds of drinks), everyone is dancing, and the punch is the cat’s pajamas. Everyone is having a grand old time – except for 15-year-old Pat, who has not been allowed to take in any of the festivities and is having a sulk in her bedroom.

She decides to join the party anyway, and raiding her sisters’ bedrooms surreptitiously for a dress and some makeup (neither of which work well as the poor kid is in full awkward-teenager mode and has pimples and no breasts to speak of), she creeps down the back stairwell to have at least one dance. She watches the dancers and hopes that she will be pretty and graceful someday, then watches some of the party gambling in another room. She ends up outside and hears a couple fooling around in the backseat of one of the cars, then overhears part of a conversation between her mother and one of the guests, which seems to be the aftermath of Mona telling this man, Sidney, that’s she going to die. Since Pat has only heard the last bit (where Sidney is actually starting to weep), she is puzzled, but not for long, because she has bumped into one of the males in attendance.

They’re both in the dark, so they can’t really see much of each other, but he’s zozzled (isn’t that a great word, by the way?) and she’s longing to have a good time, so he takes her hand, and then she asks him to get her a drink. She takes a sip and doesn’t like it, and then he kisses her, and it’s electric and tingly. He invites her to take a ride with him, but before they can go, the door opens and Connie, the oldest sister, catches them there. Connie says she’s going to tell their mother, and Pat’s man says he wants to at least have one dance before she has to go.

Warren Graves, for that is the man’s name, is a bit taken aback when the light is enough to see by and he sees how poor Pat is so awkward and young. Her gown is ill-fitting due to no cleavage, and her hair is a bit of a mess, but she has sultry eyes, she’s a good kisser, and again, he is inebriated. She adds two years to her age when he asks her. She’s a decent dancer, too, but here comes Mona to take her away. And her mother, even more embarrassingly, says she can party again WHEN she’s seventeen, so now Warren knows she lied. He makes a weak crack about a baby carriage and Pat says she hates him, but he returns that he is crazy about her, which mollifies her a bit.

The next scene is, presumably, a few days later, and Connie and Dee are in the home library. Connie is writing a letter whilst Dee peruses the pages of the local gossip rag for dirt on people that she knows. Connie is writing a letter to Warren Graves, about his behavior with Pat at the party. Apparently, he was chummy with the two of them, as well, and that’s not looked on lightly in the Fentriss household, so Con’s letter is basically telling him not to set foot in the house ever again.

Talk drifts to other things: Mona doesn’t look well; Bobs is trying to get her to slow down. Pat ought to have been sent away to school already. Dee turned down a date with Jimmy James at the club because he was getting too possessive of her time. Connie is going out and will get back pretty late, so she asks Dee to make sure she doesn’t get locked out. Dee asks if Pat got sick from the party punch, and Pat herself strides in and says no. She sees the letter to Warren in the outbox and tries to read it, only to get wrestled down by her sister. A little bit of a row ensues, and then Mona strides in and get the info.

Mona, to herself, is a bit alarmed that her littlest one seems to be growing up so quickly. Pat says that she wrote to Warren herself, as he wrote first to apologize, and she said that they were both a bit to blame. After Pat and Mona leave the room, Connie asks Dee if she likes when boys kiss her, and she say says she doesn’t mind it, but give her sports any day, instead. Later, Mona broaches the subject with Bobs, who says that Pat has already been to see him and he knows all about it. He says that her youngest is very matter-of-fact and has a very clear-eyed vision of self already, despite her young years.

It’s the next morning, very early, and Dee wakes up because she hears a conversation outside. It’s her sister, Connie, with a young man, not the same young man she was with at the party, Emslie, but another one of their acquaintance, named Fred. Dee had forgotten to leave the door unlocked, but also hadn’t expected her sister to roll in this late. Once Dee opens the door, Fred leaves. Dee presumes that he and Connie were at the party until this late, but she said that they left around 2, and that they’ve been riding around in the car, but Dee mentions that she doesn’t look “dusty” enough for that. Connie drags her into another room to tell her the full story – she was too drunk to come home, so Fred took her to his place, where she slept it off. She’s fairly certain they didn’t have sex . . . but she was so full of giggle water, she can’t really remember. Dee is surprised to have seen her with Fred, as she thought her sister was with Emslie, but suddenly she’s crazy about Fred and danced with him more than her other suitor. And she didn’t want to come home. Pat has eavesdropped on a portion of this conversation, and comes into the room to ask what didn’t happen, etc. Of course, they refuse to tell her anything, and in fact, Dee shakes her and sends her back up to bed.

The next day Fred comes to the house, and while he’s waiting for Connie to come downstairs, is put to the same question by little Pat. He just calls her a “young devil,” and then Connie comes downstairs, putting an end to that question. Later, Fred has a small parley with Mr. Fentriss and now he and Connie are getting married.

We jump to the wedding day, and Pat has been allowed to come home from the boarding school for the occasion. She is apparently plying EVERYONE with questions about what happens after the wedding, and is annoying both her sisters and her future brother-in-law to no end. At the reception, she dances with the rector’s son, Seldon, and they cuddle and kiss – but this kiss is no match for her first with Warren Graves. But she plays a bit hard to get, and discovers that he’s sweet on her and kisses her a few more times. He wants to write to her when she goes back to school, but she is aloof now and says she can’t. She also allures another guy who was flirting with her prior to the ceremony and then proceeded to ignore her all evening until now; she shuts him down with a “too late, so sad,” essentially, and he is quite smitten. As she heads to bed, Pat is pleased with this new-found power she has.

Mona decides to tell Dee that she is dying, as she enlists her to take care of the household. Dee wants to know if this is why she wanted her to marry Bobs and she says yes. Dee says that she never thought of Bobs like that, but she doesn’t really think of any man like that, even Jimmy. She’ll probably marry Jimmy anyway, but every time they are intimate, she’s not that interested. Mona says that maybe he isn’t the right man for her, then. Dee says that maybe she should wait, in that case; and Mona says, No, because no “right” man might ever come along, so essentially, settle.

Back to the run of the household – Dee thinks Connie would do a much better job, but Mona doesn’t want to tell her that she’s dying, so as not to ruin her connubial bliss. Dee says, Oh, that, and tells Mona that Freddie has been dipping into the booze a bit too much, and is not as well-off as Connie originally thought, and you know how she likes to spend money! Mona says that she’ll talk to Connie when she comes back from her trip; she’s going to Philadelphia for a few days to visit with some friends of theirs.

After Mona leaves on her trip, Dee goes to Bobs to talk to her about Mona; he confirms her story and says that she doesn’t have long to live. Dee recognizes that this is very hard on him, considering his feelings about her mother. After she leaves, he descends into a reverie of his own. If things had been different! The phone breaks into his thoughts; there’s a man asking for him and says that Mona has been taken ill in Trenton. Bobs fumes a little on his train ride, wondering what Mona is up to in Trenton, when she was supposed to be in Philly; and who was the mystery man on the phone?

Sidney meets him at the station (that’s the guy that Pat overheard crying over Mona at the party) and takes him to the suite he’s obviously sharing with Mona. Bobs assumes his best doctor face and says she’ll be alright right now, but when Mona sends Sidney out to talk to Bobs alone, the doctor assumes his best bitch face and reproaches her for her foolishness. She owns that she could have died her, and what a scandal THAT would have made! Bobs asks if she loves Sidney, and it doesn’t seem to be that way, just having a bit of fun. He, of course, because he is a bit of a prig, doesn’t understand people who do this sort of thing if they don’t both love each other. Despite that, because of his love for Mona, he helps her cover her trail of infidelity.

Then he goes into the next room and has to talk sense into Sidney, who says that if Mona dies because of this, he will take his own life. Bobs tells him that is cowardly and also, would expose the whole thing he’s trying to keep under wraps. He eagerly agrees to do what the doctor tells him to cover HIS tracks, and then bundles Mona off to the local hospital. He writes a letter to the family to tell them she was taken ill, and no need to send anyone, as she’ll be alright in a few days.

But then he runs into Pat with a school-friend, who lives in town and Pat is visiting for the weekend. He tells her that her mom is in the hospital, she asks to visit; he says no need, but Pat surmises that means she’s worse than he is saying, so he is persuaded to bring her with him to the hospital to see Mona.

Mona tells her daughter what’s up, as we learn from her later conversation with Bobs. And she also has noticed that Pat is going to make the men crazy when she grows up. Then, taking a hard right turn, she asks Bobs to keep her abreast of what’s going on in the Fentriss household after she is gone; she will leave him her desk in the house (he’s her executor, so it wouldn’t be weird) and he can write letters to her and put them in the safe. He agrees, with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she has a feeling she will have a way to find out. Six months later, she dies at home.

After their mother’s death, Connie and her husband move into Holiday Knoll, and she takes over the running of the household. Fred is still out on the town most nights, but Connie doesn’t much care, as he holds little interest for her these days, a bare two years after their marriage. They also have a baby, which takes up a good chunk of her time.

Anyway, it’s a blizzardy night, and there’s a knock at the door. There’s a well-dressed man on the other side of it, who mistakes her for Mona. Connie tells him that her mother is gone, and finds out that this is Cary Scott, the man who Mona met in Paris all those years ago, who continued to write her years later. Connie invites him in and she appraises him whilst she’s helping him with his coat. He’s not particularly handsome, but there’s something engaging about him.

They banter: he’s heard a lot about the Fentriss daughters through letters, he’s done a lot of traveling, he’s vague about MRS. Scott. After a bit, he heads off to his hotel and then each dip into reveries about the other, until he goes to sleep and her husband comes home drunk and irritable.

Pat comes home for Easter break, and is apparently working through her teenage awkwardness – her skin is clearer, her teeth are whiter, and so on. She asks Dee about Cary, who is sitting with Connie in the library. They talk about his origins (here and there, he has money) and what’s up with Connie and Freddie (they’re tired of each other, Freddie is usually always drunk, they’re in debt). Dee wonders aloud if Pat is trying to pique Cary’s interest, and laughs that she’s too young for him; Pat says that some guys go for that innocent pouty look she has, and Dee replies that she’s a bit too old for that sort of thing, isn’t she? As for Dee, she still feels the same about Jimmy – he doesn’t set her afire, but I guess he’s steady.

Pat makes her own introduction to Cary by heading into the library looking for the latest gossip rag. It’s not there, and she has to go into town anyway, so she leaves rather abruptly. Then there’s a whole lovey-dovey bit between Cary and Constance; he’s obviously quite enamored with her because she looks so much like his old love.

They go to a dance a few days later; Pat is also there, and her date is quite splifficated. Connie entreats Cary to dance with Pat to get her away, and they chat. She makes jokes about his age. She discovers that he knows Dr. Bobs, as well, and that they have become friends, of which Pat is glad. Pat wants to know what Cary sees in her sister, though. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she’s not very smart. This makes Cary angry, because she shouldn’t be criticizing her sister, but to himself, he is startled by the realization that little Pat is RIGHT. He appreciates a clever woman, and Connie is a lot of things, but clever she isn’t.

Then they overhear some gossip about a woman; some guys are calling her a tease, etc., and Cary buts in and gives them a talking-to; he’s surprised by the look on Pat’s face after the scatter, but he finds out that they were talking about . . . her, using her nickname, Treechie. He says that he doesn’t believe their gossip, but she admits that it is true. She’s kissed a LOT of boys. But she resolves that she will stop doing that, unless it’s someone she’s truly interested in.

Dee gets a new bathing suit, and Connie comes upon her trying it on in front of a mirror. Dee is going to the Dangerfields, to play tennis at their house, and then everyone is going to take a dip in the new swimming pool. Connie is concerned about her going there, because the Dangerfields, Wally and Sally, tend to encourage gossip. There have been near-scandals at their house several times. And also, Jimmy doesn’t like them. Dee says yeah, he’s pissed, but she doesn’t care, really. Anyway, now she doesn’t have a tennis partner, so she asks Connie if she can borrow Cary for the event. Connie says he’s not her property, a bit moodily, which leads Dee to wonder if they’ve had a row. But no, Connie is concerned that Freddie has been borrowing money from Cary. She’s pretty sure Cary doesn’t expect the cash back, but she isn’t sure if he expects . . . something else. She wonders to her sister if she paid back that way would she be shitty like Freddie? She’s not in love with him, really, and he’s also paid a bill or two of hers that she didn’t want to take to their dad. Anyway, she advises Dee to marry money, and Dee sends an invite to Cary for the party.

The Dangerfields like to party, and their punch is infamous. The couples drink as they play, except for Dee and her partner, who end up winning; the prize is a magnum of champagne, which they immediately open and pass around, of course. And it’s very hot, so of course, all the booze is going to everyone’s head. They go for an early swim, then a storm blows up quickly and knocks out the power. Lit by weak candles, some start to get a bit handsy. Dee evades whoever is trying to touch her whilst she lays on a couch, and she stumbles over another couple getting amorous on the other side of the room. Then someone suggests going back into the pool; there are complaints about putting their wet swimsuits back on, and the idea is suggested that everyone swim in the nude. It’s dark, after all. They’ll put a tennis net down the middle of the pool to separate the men from the women; it’ll be FINE.

Everyone goes outside; the women to disrobe on the squash court while the men fix up the pool. Everyone starts to go into the pool, but Dee is reluctant, now that everyone is actually going ahead with it. Then they start to roll call in the dark, to make sure every one is accounted for, so she simply MUST go ahead. Before she can, however, there are footsteps behind her. She calls out to ask who is there, and suddenly, all the lights come on, illuminating her naked body for all and sundry. She runs to the door and slams it shut behind her. She hears the footsteps again, but she knows who it is now. The unseen person puts a rubber raincoat over her shoulders and she asks them to turn on the light.

The unknown person is a workman, and they have apparently met before. He was the one summoned to work on the electricity at the house. He is judgey of her joining the swimming party. But before he can say anything else, there are shouts and commotion from outside to turn on the lights, and someone has possibly drowned. The electrician opens the door and puts on more lights; they illuminate a young girl, Viccy, one of the first ones to go into the pool, laying on the stairs. Sally apparently stepped on her where she was, at the bottom of the pool.

Cary tries to resuscitate her, and calls for a doctor. The phones are still down, so Dee rides with the electrician to Dr. Bob’s place. She has no shoes, so ElectricDude carries her to the car. Bobs is working in his lab and Dee gets him to ride with them back to the Dangerfields. By the time they get back, Viccy is awake and upchucking her little heart out. Dr. Bobs asks Dee if there was a lot of drinking. Seems like a rough party, Dee; is this the kind of stuff you’re into? Dee wearily asks for him not to lecture her.

Dee goes back to ElectricDude and he says that Cary is the one who saved her because he knew what to do. Dee is surprised that Electric knows Cary, and Electric is surprised that Cary was at this kind of a party – well, he says orgy, actually. Dee says it’s not really what you’re thinking, and he says, Well, you all were going to go into a pool nude, so . . . She asks him to wait while she gets her clothes on, and he says NO. He’s not going to take her home, as she thought. For he had idealized her, but she’s just like all the other girls. He wishes that he’d never seen her. Well, buddy, that’s on you, for putting a girl on a pedestal. You prudish fuckwit.

Cary and Dee drive Dr. Bobs back to his place; he asks Dee who the other man was, and we finally get his name, Stanley Wollaston. Cary is surprised, as he didn’t get a good look at the man in the dark, but would never have thought that it was Stanley. Especially as an electrician. Apparently, the two men met during the war, and he was a poet then. But his family went broke, so Cary supposes that’s why he is doing electrician work now.

And where does Dee know him from? She deflects the question, but reminisces in her head: her car broke down about a year previous while on a drive in the country, and he, out for a day of solo fishing and relaxation, helped her with her car and shared his lunch with her. They talked a lot that day, and she drove him back to the village, and apparently he was quite smitten but resisted the impulse to kiss or touch her. Cary says he might look him up, but Dee says he seems to have broken with his past, so that might not be a good idea. Cary asks if she’s interested in Stanley and she says No, she’s going to marry Jimmie.

News about the party has traveled, despite everyone there being sworn to secrecy. The money was on Stan the electrician, as Wally tried to bribe him to keep his mouth shut and Stan wouldn’t take the money. Also, we know that Stan is a bit of a sanctimonious asshole, based on his conversation with Dee, so . . . yeah, probably him. Anyway, it made its way into Town Topics, the gossip sheet, which the girls at Pat’s boarding school read, so now she’s kind of popular because of that. Pat begs Dee to tell her all the juicy details, but she replies with news of her engagement to Jimmie. Connie is pleased, as she thinks it’s high time this was settled. But Bobs, writing his dead letters to Mona as promised, is not as keen on the idea. He sees that Dee has no deep desire for Jimmie, and he in turn, is a condescending shit. Bobs wonders at the haste of the engagement, precipitated by the Dangerfield Dip (as the tattle is calling it), and also who that man was, the electrician, and his relationship with Dee. Bobs knows nothing, as Dee doesn’t really talk to him anymore, as she used to do.

After the engagement, Dee retreats more into herself. Pat talks to Bobs about her, but he doesn’t know much more than she does. And Pat doesn’t like Jimmie much, either. Apparently, he tried to kiss her, and Bobs deflects this as she’s family now, but Pat says it wasn’t too brotherly, but he probably takes it where he can get it because he doesn’t really get much of that at home, ya dig?

Later, she’s talking to Dee about it, and she asks her younger sister about what she feels when she kisses men. And she hasn’t felt that electric sort of feeling, except one time when another man held her in his arms (presumably Stanley, although she doesn’t reveal who it is to Pat). Pat says that that’s the guy to marry, not Jimmie. To change the subject, Pat asks about Connie and Cary, but he is away right now; he went back to Paris for several months. He’ll be back in time for Dee’s wedding; Pat is to be her maid of honor, which makes her happy, but she does say that she wishes Dee wouldn’t go through with it.

Bobs writes to Mona. Basically, he rails about the current state of education, the morals of teenagers, Pat’s falling victim to moral brain rot, and Cary’s influence on her – which is positive and distracts HIM from Connie. When he’s done, the good doctor heads downstairs and runs into Cary. He’s there to take Connie to the symphony, but she pleads a headache and sends Pat in her stead. Cary isn’t sure if Connie is retreating because she doesn’t want to face their future relationship or whether this is a “hard-to-get” move. Pat and Cary banter for a bit before they leave, and she warns him that music makes her quite emotional. And she sings a few bars, and apparently has a lovely voice; he tells her she should take up lessons, but Pat is delightfully lazy and shrinks from the very idea of practice for several hours a day.

They attend the concert, and for Pat, it is magical; she leans on him and grabs his hand when she is quite affected during the event. She asks him, as they walk back to the car, why he let her do those sorts of things, and she asks if he likes her, which he does, but obviously, Pat retorts, not as much as he likes Connie. He ignores this. Back at the house, she entreats him to come in for a minute, and she kisses him lightly and goes upstairs. Despite himself, he ruminates on comparing the two sisters, and Connie is left wanting.

A few days later, he is visiting with Connie and is distracted by the younger girl flitting through the hallway. Pat intercepts him when he leaves and asks if he will take her to town, and when he accepts, says that she just wants to talk, so drive anywhere. They talk about whether or not he likes her. She doesn’t want to be seen as just a little kid. And besides, what they did? Was just a white kiss. There are white kisses and red kisses, the latter, presumably, are more passionate. Cary is obnoxious and asks how she knows that kind of thing, because apparently, even at 18, you should be chaste in all things. She reminds him that she used to kiss lots more boys. And he says that is dangerous. Is there danger with you? No, because I know how to control myself, he says, and she replies that he’s different, then, from most men. This floors him that she would know THAT, too, at her age. He says she’s high-strung, neurotic, and excitable, and while 2021 girls would be really pissed at that, she just kind of shrugs and says, Tell me something I don’t know. But anyway, she’s been good, and he’s been a good influence on her; she can’t understand why, unless it’s because he makes all the local guys not measure up. She’s kissed maybe three guys since that party, and he asks in a curt tone if they were white or red kisses. Dude sounds jealous. What the fuck?

He tells her that she should talk to Dr. Bobs about herself; why, is he a psychiatrist now, too? He is a bit shitty to her, telling her that she obviously can’t be happy if she keeps going around kissing whomever she wants. She says she hates him, and he said, better that than hating yourself like you did that night at the club. WOW. She gets a bit tearful and he makes fun of her for it, says she is a child and yet he has made the mistake of trying to treat her like an adult. This guy is such a prick; tell him to fuck off.

But she doesn’t. Talk turns to her voice again, and training, and then at the end of the drive she flirts with him a little and asks him to kiss her again and he says NO NEVER AGAIN and she says, Well, keep on liking me, plz, because it’s good for me.

Bobs writes to Mona. Connie and Cary do not seem to be close anymore. He wishes Dee would wait for the right man, if there is any for her. He says that if he were not a doctor, he might even be persuaded to believe in trial marriages, as long as the couple safeguarded themselves against children. He’s sure that most second marriages for men are to their mistresses, so society should really stop putting out the lie that men don’t marry women who have put out before marriage, because it happens all the time. So, he recognizes this, but yet, he is priggish with the Fentriss girls. He’s a strange character.

Bobs says that Pat should marry an older man. Like Cary Scott. He wishes Cary were not married, but of course, he’s a bit old for Pat, anyway. At any rate, Cary told Bobs that he should speak frankly to Pat, but he’s worried he’s out of his league, as the flappers seem to know so much more than him these days.

As he puts the letter in the safe, he feels as if someone has been in there, looking at these letters. Could Mona be reading from the Great Beyond? He chalks it up to imagination and sentimentality.

Pat comes to talk to him a few days later – they talk about her leaving school and running the house instead of Connie, and perhaps getting voice lessons, and if he likes Dee’s future husband (he doesn’t). She also asks him why he thinks she should marry a 30-year-old man, and he says that a man that age will have more wisdom and self-control to “manage” her. Bah. Anyway, it’s only later when he’s alone and engrossed in his work that that snippet of conversation returns to him – how did she know about that? He only ever told Mona.

The week of Dee’s wedding arrives and Pat comes home from school for it. Pat’s best friend, Cissie, should be arriving as well. Pat has told her all about Cary, and the two figure that while the wedding party is at the Dangerfields’, Cary can take Cissie to lunch in town. Pat watches from the window to see when Cary arrives, and then hurries to be “caught” playing and singing when he comes in the door. She pretends that she didn’t notice him, but he calls her on this, and she readily assents that she was lying. She’s been taking voice lessons. He says she sounds okay but laments that she’ll never do anything with it. They banter a bit, and then he leaves to run some errands for the bride. He comes to the dance late due to this, and cannot seem to find a good time to cut in on any of Pat’s partners. Later, he goes outside to smoke and sees her in the shadows with a dude. He laughs bitterly at this.

The next day, Cissie meets Cary; they banter a little bit before they go to the Ritz for lunch. Then they play a round of golf, and there is more banter. Then Cissie says that it’s no wonder that Pat has fallen for him, which he denies, as well as the fact that he’s fallen for Pat. He also thinks he is rather old, but the wise young’in says that age means experience. She comes back to the car before he leaves, and he wonders why, before he sees Pat at the door. Cissie and Pat’s conversation leads one to believe she might be just a little bit jealous of the, in Cissie’s words, corking afternoon they just had.

Pat tries to be even more alluring that night at the party, but Cary pretty much ignores her. All of the other men try to dance with her, though. This bugs the hell out of her, though, so much so that she finally abandons a dance partner to go talk with Cary. She wonders if he’s going to ask her to dance, and he says, Oh, surely she is very busy, if not with dances, certainly in a shadowy corner with any interested guy. She realizes that he was the one who came around the corner on the previous night and saw her. He’s a bit contemptuous of her, even when she says it’s been a long time since she has been petting. And then she asks how much he actually saw. Cary says that he saw enough to know that she and Monty were “clinched,” but then he walked away; Pat said that if he’d stayed, he would have seen the truth – that the man she was with was well and truly pickled and she was holding him up so he wouldn’t crash to the floor. He believes her and asks how he can apologize and she says no apology, just dance with me. Fuck that, I think he SHOULD apologize. He’s a sanctimonious asshole and I don’t like him.

Anyway, he wanders around in the garden with his feelings until they dance together, and then he walks her home. She flirtingly asks if he likes her better than Cissie, and he says that he’s mad about her. He can’t help himself from saying it. She says that spoils everything, he says let’s forget it, but of course, who could? And then they kiss.

She calls him the next morning and they meet up at the house; he tells her that he loves her. Which is obviously a problem because he’s still married. They’re estranged but that is all he will tell her. (As he’s pondering, the narrator tells us that he prefers flings with married women). He thinks that they shouldn’t see each other anymore, but Pat convinces him that it doesn’t seem to matter much, the situation is the same. He worries about her inconstancy; after all, she’s had other suitors that have flitted in and out of her interest. Cary finally makes the decision that, once she goes back to school, they cannot see each other anymore.

Pat introduces him to her Aunt Linda; they find a quiet corner to speak, and it is revealed that Cary knows Linda from his trips around Europe. At the time, she was traveling under the guise of a married woman so that she could go where she could in peace. She’s one of those bohemian women that the Mrs. Grundys have warned against, I suppose. Anyway, Linda talks to Cary about Pat. She’s young yet, you know, not yet nineteen. It’s possible that she might lose interest rather quickly, but Linda just wants her niece to be happy. And she worries that in this Salamander-influenced time period (a contemporary book from the pre-flapper era the decade prior) too many women are playing with fire and still thinking they will come out unscathed.

Dee gets married; as she is at the altar, she looks out at the sea of onlookers in a way that concerns both Cary and Bobs. Dee and Pat talk after the ceremony, as Dee is packing to leave for her honeymoon directly after the reception. Pat, once again, begs for info on what happens that night. Dee sidesteps and tells her that the best man is into her; she apparently has noticed that Pat has been hanging around with Cary, but not the full intent of why. Pat dances with a bunch of other men and doesn’t talk to Cary again until later, when she asks if he noticed Dee’s face during the ceremony. He did, but he doesn’t really think it’s of any importance. They banter, until Pat sees Bobs coming out, and she hails him to ask the same question. He saw it, but he doesn’t really say anything either. Pat thinks it was a helpless, hopeless look. Bobs tries to reassure her, it’s probably the emotion of the day, despite his own internal misgivings. Then Cary thinks of Stanley Wollaston, the electrician, and wonders if Jimmie James will ever make her yearn like that again.

Later, Pat says to Cary that she wishes that Dee hadn’t married Jimmie, and also that she wishes it was the two of them going away instead. This stirs him up so much, even though he knows it to be impossible, and he tries to stop her from saying more. He kisses her goodbye, even though he’s driving her back to school the next day.

The next morning, he takes her back to school by a longer route, so that they can stop and picnic on the way. He is mostly silent and sad. As they eat, he tells her that he has to go away for a while on business. He hopes that she won’t miss him too much, and in fact, if she were to move on, that would probably be a blessing. Even though it would hurt him. He advises her that, with the next man she is enamoured of, to really examine all their previous acquaintance, and whether or not is measures up to this. If it doesn’t, then don’t commit. Pat also surmises that he doesn’t want her to just go neck with anyone. She asks, Even if I’m in love? He says that’s different, but she counters with, How can I tell unless I have some physical affection from him? He doesn’t have a ready answer, just meekly says make sure it isn’t just a casual fling. Man, these people would have been apoplectic to see today’s couplings and Tinder sexcapades. Then he gets weird and talks about the First Dreaming and the Second Dreaming for her. Not long after, he drops her off at school and leaves.

Bobs writes to his lost love, Mona. Dee and Jimmie have been married for six months; despite his misgivings still about Jimmie, they seem to be content. Pat has taken over the management of the house and is doing an admirable job. Connie is having another baby, and Pat is helping to get her and Freddie back on the same page; he’s cut down on his drinking. And Cary has gone away. Bobs surmises it had to do with Dee, perhaps; or he was still smoldering for Connie. Bobs says that he has heard Cary’s wife is a bit of a virago and will never consent to a divorce. He’s still not sure how Pat knew about some of the things in these letters he is writing. And he’s still quite concerned about her, as he thinks that she will have difficulty fully adjusting to adulthood. Or something.

Pat throws a dinner party for the family, plus Bobs and Aunt Linda. Everyone is in fine fettle and the party is deemed a success. Bobs notices, however, that Dee doesn’t seem quite herself. The men retire to the patio to smoke and the women decamp to the library. Pat asks about Dee’s skating partner; she saw them the previous weekend when she was out driving. It appears to have been Stanley, but they don’t delve too deeply before they talk about Dee and Jimmie traveling South, which is interrupted by Bobs getting irate about someone. It turns out that there is a write-up in the paper about some doctors, and Bobs denounces them as abortionists. He’s full of wrath at these men and their murderous intentions, and also upset that this paper is lying about where a young girl can pick it up; it’s not decent. Ralph says that it’s couched language so Pat wouldn’t even know if she did happen to read it. Fred counters him and says that Pat is pretty smart, and so are most of her set. Bobs is pissed anew that they’re even TALKING about it, and crumples the paper; there’s no waste-basket there so Fred says to just put it in the wood-box for now. Pat, overhearing all of this, resolves to get the paper later; however, after the after-party games and closing up the house for the night, she goes to retrieve the paper, only to find that Dee has beaten her to it, and is sitting out there reading the article.

The next morning, the paper is gone; Pat asks her about it the first opportunity they are alone. Dee claims to have torn it up. Pat asks if Dee is pregnant and she says it’s none of her sister’s business. Pat says that Connie told her when SHE was and that she thought she’d be happy. Dee says she’d die by her own hand first; she doesn’t want a baby. The thought disgusts her. She entreats her sister to NEVER marry a man she doesn’t love, because then she will be sick every day of her life. She further unburdens herself to her younger sister: she and Jim got married under an agreement between the two of them, that this was to be a trial for a month; if after that time, either of them wanted to quit living together, they would separate into separate portions of the house without going through a public divorce. And now, Dee is done with the trial, mainly because of Stanley, but Jimmie isn’t having it. And now she’s pregnant with his baby and doesn’t know what to do.

Pat doesn’t understand why she married Jimmie in the first place; but it was out of convenience. Dee wants to get an abortion. (Keep in mind that this is all couched in roundabout terms; I’m just being direct here for clarity). She doesn’t care if it’s dangerous. Pat tells her to go see Bobs, but she said that he wouldn’t help her anyway. Pat hits upon an idea: she’ll tell him instead, but it’s evident that she really feels that Dee should just have the baby. Dee says that Jimmie found out about Stanley and he’s holding that over her head with regards to their trial marriage agreement. Pat says, once again, she will go right now to Bobs to get his help.

Pat tells Bobs that Dee is pregnant, and that she doesn’t want to be a mother. He basically waves his hand about that and says, Oh, most women don’t want to be in the early stages; she’ll come around. You know, that sort of sexist horseshit. Pat entreats Bobs to help her, before she goes to one of the abortionists she saw in the paper. Bobs is incensed that one, the paper was still laying around for them to see; and two, that Dee isn’t ashamed of herself for putting little Pat to this nonsense. Pat says that it was actually her own idea, and that Dee CANNOT have this baby. He asks if she’s trying to say that it isn’t James’ child; no, it is; well, then, it’s probably the very best thing that could happen to her, sayeth Dr. Prick.

Pat switches tacks; if you won’t help Dee, would you help . . .me? He’s instantly gentle, entreating her to tell him who the man is. Because the only thing for it is, he has to marry her. She says he’s already married. Therefore, Bobs says, will you marry ME? It would only be for safety and propriety. She says no. Why can’t you just help me get rid of it? Mona would have made him help her; he says that she knew him better than that. The only thing for it is to send her away somewhere; whatever you do, Pat, DON’T go to one of the quacks in the paper. After she leaves his house, she looks at the paper again, and see an address in Newark of a Dr. Jelleco.

Two days later, Bobs is still deeply in thought about Pat’s problem. If Mona were alive, he would have gone to her without a second thought. Who can he go to now? He goes for a walk to clear his head, and returns to find Pat in his house, who fell asleep waiting for him. She entreats him to go over to Dee’s, as she is very ill. She confesses that it was Dee who was pregnant the whole time, and she went to one of the doctors in the paper; and now she is ill, post-abortion, and needs his help. He is very angry, for several reasons: she lied to him; they went to one of those butchers anyway; and then also that Pat didn’t tell Dee that she went to Bobs as if it were her (Pat’s) own problem. Bobs says that she needs to tell her when she is better. IF she gets better. Pat should have told him the truth, he says. Dude, she TRIED. You said no. THEN he says that if Dee dies, it will be Pat’s lie that killed her. Um, NO. You refused to help her. That’s why Pat did what she did. You said you would not life ONE finger to get Dee an abortion, because that’s a “cowardly shirking of her first duty as a woman and a wife,” as he says now to Pat’s response that she would do that deception all over again to save Dee.

Bobs examines her and says Dee will be okay; a slight nervous shock, nothing more. Whatever the fuck that means. Bobs is still very angry with Pat and he’s absolutely fucking mean to her. He says it will not be easy to forgive her. She tells him to go to hell, and he leaves. Dee asks what they were arguing about and she tells her sister to rest; she will tell her the story tomorrow. Dee jumps out of bed and bars the door until Pat agrees to tell her the story. And then when she gets to the part that Bobs offered marriage, Pat gives a little laugh at the absurdity of it, which makes DEE mad at her. How dare she laugh at Bobs’ noble offer to shield a little fool like her? But, Pat explains, it wasn’t TRUE, obviously. The whole situation was absurd. Dee is weary of her and tells her to get out. Poor Pat. Everyone is being a total asshole to you, because of this stupid MORALITY.

Spring arrives, and one day, Dee is out driving when she see Cary Scott. He never told them he was back in town, and he says that he wasn’t sure when he was coming in. Dee fills him in on the family: Fred and Connie are living in their own place; Pat is running the ship as well as ever. She’s out of town right now, and Cary gives silent thanks for that. Because there is no danger of him seeing her, he accepts Dee’s invitation of dinner and spending the night at Holiday Knoll. They talk about Pat; she’s a bit restless these days, keeping a couple of guys on the string but also saying she’s bored to death.

Cary is in town to find Stanley; he’s gone away, but Dee can give him the address. Stanley’s English aunt has died and left him the estate, so now he can be a man of leisure. Cary sees from Dee’s face that she still loves Stanley and is still seeing him. He doesn’t say anything, though. Later, Jimmie picks him up and takes him to the house. After resting for a bit in his room, he starts to come downstairs when he hears Pat’s voice.

After dinner, they take a walk together. Pat has missed him more than she thought she would. He was surprised that she was there; and that perhaps she shouldn’t have come, because he loves her so much it’s torturous. She says that she broke away early on purpose, so that they could spend more time together. She invites him into the conservatory. They can have the evening all to themselves. [“We’ve Got Tonight”?] She runs upstairs and puts on something more comfortable to lounge in. They open the window to hear the next door neighbor playing the violin. The music, the dim lighting, her languorousness on the couch, all combine to draw him to her. And it’s implied that he makes love to her. Later, he’s at the window, overcome with emotion; she walks up to him and says she’s NOT sorry, she’s glad.

The next morning, there is a letter from Cary; he has to go away for a few days, but trust in him, he will be back as soon as he can. And he loves her. She ruminates on this, and then, thinks about all of the moralizing media she has consumed, that girls who have sex usually get pregnant. She thinks of girls of her acquaintance and whether they’d been “caught out” like that. She would love to confide in her best friend, Cissie, but is it prudent? She’s sure she will be fine; she goes to church regularly and all that, so God’s got her back! This whole enterprise might be sinning, but she doesn’t feel remorse, so . . . is it really sinning? Back to the moralizing literature – the man loses all respect for the girl who puts out; well, we know THAT’S not true – he’s coming back and he loves her! But . . does she really love him? Would she marry him if he were able to take that step? She still likes her freedom, after all. Oh, well, he’s still married right now, anyway, so no sense in ruminating on that part.

Cary sends her a letter the next two days; she doesn’t answer them. She’s thinking about what to say upon his return when Dee calls her. Jim was hit by a car, and it’s very bad; can she please come right away? Bobs is already there; he tells her to go get a nurse and bring her right away. When she returns with the nurse, Pat does to see Dee. She’s afraid, not that he’s going to die, but that he ISN’T. She confesses to Pat that when they first said he was dead, she was glad. They fought hard last week. He wants children, she said no, he said he will never initiate a separation. If she wants to try, go ahead, but it won’t be easy. And she was seriously thinking about doing so, but now . . . how would she look, if she left him?

The chauffer from the car that hit him comes in then, and tells them the full story. Apparently, a little girl ran out into the street as his car was coming around the bend; Jimmie shoved her out of the way and he ended up getting run over instead. The little girl, unfortunately, escaped his wheels only to roll right under a truck passing the other way and was still killed. The guy is amazed that Jim would just throw himself in the way for a “Dago” kid he didn’t even know. Ah, casual racism. Dee, hysterical, just starts laughing and cannot stop.

Cary returns; Pat fills him in about Jimmie. Bobs says that Jim will live, but it would be kinder to let him die, as his back is broken and he is paralyzed. She also tells him about Dee’s plan to leave Jim before the accident. And now she will never leave. Especially because she said that he was selfish and she didn’t want to have his baby because of it, and then he does this big-hero thing and Dee thinks that perhaps she had been misjudging him all along. Stanley should be coming back in the next few days; Pat begs Cary to stop him from seeing Dee, because she still is very much in love with him.

Cary asks Bobs about Jim’s condition, and he confirms what Pat said, that he will paralyzed for the rest of his life and will suffer. Cary asks if he can help him to die, and Bobs is indignant at the very suggestion; certainly he’s still a valued member of the family, and there might someday be a way for him to regain his feeling. In any case, doctors do not kill, and Jim wants Dee to get a separation so that she doesn’t have to bear his burden anymore. Dee won’t listen, though.

Cary tries to get in touch with Stanley, but can’t find him.

Later, he and Pat finally get a chance to talk. He asks her to marry him; he says that he has evidence against his wife that would push her to agree to the divorce. He hasn’t used it before now, because he felt it wouldn’t be honorable; yes, she’s been stepping out on him, but he’s been doing the same thing. What’s changed? Any of those other women, he didn’t love so much as her, so much that he wants to cut ties for good on his marriage. Pat isn’t sure, though. Why can’t it just go on like this for a while? He says it’s risky, but she doesn’t care. And she doesn’t want to do any more thinking tonight.

Dee goes outside for a breath of air by herself. She thinks back to earlier in the day, talking to Bobs. Jim could live for years like this, provided he has the will to do so. He might eventually be able to sit in a wheelchair, but he’ll never walk again. She says that she won’t think about his separation offer, despite it all. She wishes that now that she knows his true self, she could give him a child, but that’s off the table, as well.

Suddenly, Stanley comes out of the shadows. He’s been waiting outside for hours to see her. He wants her to divorce Jim and come with him to England. She loves him, but she can’t; she relays the story of Jim’s accident and how things stand now. Stanley says that they belong together; why can’t she just come away with him? Jim calls out to her, and she breaks away from Stanley and leaves him.

Meanwhile, Pat and Cary find time to spend together in secret. But she still doesn’t want to marry him. Or anyone. Connie has been asking snoopy kind of questions, which troubles Cary. Pat says that if he IS free of his previous entanglement, they could say they were engaged; that doesn’t mean they HAVE to get married, it’s different these days. But that won’t do. Therefore, Pat resolves that they will have a bit more glorious time together and then Cary should leave. Cary says that he won’t return until he’s free; and if she sends for him, it is for good.

The next day, they come back to the house only to be caught together by Connie. Connie wants to phone their father, and Cary tries to defend the whole enterprise, and the whole thing makes Connie go into labor. Pat takes charge immediately, sends Cary to get the obstetrician around the corner, and not for him to return; she’ll write to him.

Bobs to Mona: Connie’s baby is six months old now. Despite a quarrel between Connie and Pat that doesn’t appear to have been made up, Pat was still very steadfast during Connie’s pregnancy and afterward. And Cary went away abruptly again. The good doctor thinks it must have been something to do with Connie. Dee has retreated into herself; she is very devoted to James but he knows that’s not the whole story. And Pat – he can’t figure her out, either.

Pat is back into the whirl of her social engagements. However, she hasn’t gotten close, physically, with any of them. She thought that her self-control might have been lessened since having sex with Cary, but apparently that is not the case. None of her current suitors entrance her quite as Cary did, either. She writes to him, and all he writes back is, When you send for me, it means that you’re willing to marry and accept me forever. Otherwise, no. This makes her have more dalliances, not fewer. She apparently is responsible for breaking at least one engagement in town. Despite all this, she is once again, bored. Which leads her to Washington Heights and a meeting with Edna Carroll.

Edna is the “other woman” that their father has had on the side for years. A rumor erupts that he might be marrying her, or perhaps had already secretly done so. Pat, in the city one day to have a gown made, sees her father’s car pull up outside an apartment building, in the middle of the afternoon. She runs away before he can see her, but resolves to return the next morning and see if this is where “Ralph’s flossie,” as the girls used to call her, lives.

Edna answers the door, and Pat asks her if she’s Mrs. Fentriss, and Edna has an inkling who this young upstart girl might be before she introduces herself. Pat admits that it was curiosity that brought her, and Edna appreciates her frankness and invites her inside. Edna is an artist and Pat finds this, and Edna herself, delightful. No, she and Ralph are NOT married, and there’s no danger of him just walking in because, despite the little sordid novels Pat probably likes to read and gets her misinformation from, he does NOT have a key to HER place.

Edna is married, but she hasn’t lived with her husband for years; he’s terrible and she was nearly ready to die by her own hand before she met Ralph. He’s got an eternally youthful quality that she loves in him. Pat promises she won’t tell anyone she was here, then asks if she can come visit again, and charms her way to an eventual invitation to one of Edna’s parties.

At Edna’s flat, she meets Leo Stenak, who is a violinist. He’s kind of ill-mannered and egotistical; Cary had told her about him previously. Later, he returns and asks if she will sing with his accompaniment; she ruined his performance earlier by her coming in and so she owes him. After the song, he says that she is terrible. A good voice, but no practice. She says that she HAS been practicing. He says he wants to work with her; he walks her to her friend’s house, where she is staying. On the way, he tells her about himself: he’s from Russia, he’s an anarchist, and he’s sorry that he was rude to her earlier. He asks her to come to his studio. She demurs at first, because they would be alone, but he says that it’s just business, not romantic interest.

She goes to his studio, and keeps returning. He plays music for her and helps her practice her voice. He doesn’t put the moves on her at all whilst she’s in his apartment. But then one day, as he’s walking her to her car, he tells her that he loves her. She doesn’t know what she feels, but she knows that they’re not on the same page. Some day she wants to marry and settle down, and that’s not his plan at all. She leaves. Edna asks her what she’s up to with him. She asks Pat if she would marry Leo; Edna is afraid for him, that this sort of love will destroy whatever genius he has in him. Pat doesn’t have the temperament to be with a man like Leo long-term.

Pat isn’t sure what to do next. She avoids his place, his calls, his letters. But then she runs into him on the street and goes to his studio, where he says that he loves and needs her, for his full genius he needs her. He knows that she loves him, too, and she is too caught up to deny anything. He is leaving for Boston the next day and he asks her to join him there, even just for the day; he will take her a friend of his who is a singing-master, and she can get his opinion of her voice. Once again, she tries to say no, but then finally yields and says she will come with him.

Three days pass, and then he summons her by letter; he will meet her train. From her window seat, she sees him on the wrong side of the platform as they pull in. This gives her a moment to appraise his unkempt looks – his coat is ill-fitting, his suit isn’t pressed and looks a bit greasy; his hair is wild and untidy. This makes her think of Cary, and how he is always so neat, and pressed, and clean. And then she looks again at the genius on the platform and is hit with revulsion. She gets from her seat and hides in the restroom until the train leaves for its next stop. She returns to New York and tells Edna the story; Edna can’t understand, after all that, she would not go to him. Pat says, “When I saw him that way I knew that his socks would be dirty.”

Pat decides she’s done with men. She’s still a good partier, but no one can get her in a clinch anymore. Instead, she spends a lot of her time with Jimmie, so that Dee can have a reprieve. Originally, after the accident, she would come by frequently, only to slowly drop off visits until her conscience pricked her to start going again. One day, however, she goes up to see Jimmie, whom everyone presumes to be asleep, but she seems that his fist is clenched and the tears are slowly dripping down his face. This affects her so much that she goes back to the garden and is violently ill from the sudden emotion. Then she composes herself and heads up cheerily to Jimmie’s room. He lies and says that he’s fine, and she says, Don’t lie. Swear. Swear your heart out. Get it all out of your system. So he does, and it makes him feel a little lighter. She says, It’s no good to do all that alone, so call me when you need an audience. This forms a special bond between them, and they become pretty close friends.

Her friendship with Jimmie gets her into a bit of a tiff with Monty Standish, the great quarterback of Princeton; he invites her to go to the big game, but she refuses, because of her obligation to Jimmie. Monty says that if they lose the game, it’s all her fault then. Jimmie finds out about all this, somehow and chastises her a little bit. Princeton was his school, and Monty is a looker, you could do worse, etc. She lies and says, Eh, it’s not for YOU, I’m bored with football. Princeton wins, so nothing to feel badly about. Monty comes back and ignores Pat at the dance, but everyone can see his eyes are constantly following her. Jimmie invites him over to have a talk, and next Pat knows, Monty asks to see her. She says that she might have time if he apologizes properly; he does, and then they’re kissing, and by the time they say good-night, they’re engaged. She wakes the next morning, and realizes that she’s really, truly in love. And to think she was done with all that!

Four months go by. Monty is at college, so they don’t get to see each other often; he’s hot and charming, but not quite that smart or clever. Sometimes, Cary’s words about companionship being the “rarest” thing in love, come to her, unbidden, and she pushes them away so as not to make comparisons between Monty and Cary.

The date for the wedding is set, for June, after Monty’s graduation. She goes to Bobs and asks his opinion of Monty. Bobs says that he “means well,” but he’s stupid. How is that a good match, then? She asks. Bobs thinks that Pat will be perfectly satisfied with a stupid husband, because he’s good-looking AND rich! Then Pat asks, in an echo of Mona at the beginning of the piece, if women confess to their doctors. She tells him that she’s not a virgin and she wants to know if Monty will know that she’s not when they’re married. He is surprised that Monty isn’t the man and asks who it was, but she won’t tell. He says that no, he won’t know, unless she tells him. She wonders if she should tell him, and Bobs asks if he’s told HER anything about his oat-sowing. Bobs tells her that there was a raid on a roadhouse the previous year, and Monty was one of the guys that were caught there.

Pat asks why he didn’t say anything before; Bobs shrugs and says, Eh, most of the boys are like that. Monty is no worse than any of them. And besides, you’ve done the same thing! Pat denies that it’s the same. Bobs asks again who the man was, and when he realizes that the answer has been in front of him the whole time, he is incensed. She tells him why he left though, and Bobs is confused why she wouldn’t marry Cary, and she still doesn’t know. She wonders if Monty will still want to marry her if she tells him all this. Bobs says that if Monty were older or wiser, he’d advise her to tell him the whole story, but with what he knows about him now . . . don’t do it.

The conversation makes him think about the “marrying a man over thirty” bit, and he asks her how she came to know about that. She admits that she read the letters. Before Mona died, she told Pat about her idea. Bobs says he changed the combination on the safe after she died so that no one else could get in. Pat had a dream, though, where Mona came to her and gave her the combination. There’s an unfinished letter on the desk; Pat reads it, adds a postscript, and gives it to Bobs to read. Basically, it says that Bobs loves Dee, and she is coming to realize it, too. Jimmie doesn’t have much longer; so when he goes, Bobs should step up and make her a wife again.

Pat decides that she needs to tell Monty about Cary. And one night, they’re at a gathering at the house. Gossip turns to a girl who had recently died by her own hand after her engagement was broken up, due to the discovery of her previous love affair. They discuss whether it is prudent to discuss this things before they get found out. Monty’s contribution is that, even if the girl owned up to it, he’s still have to break it off with her.

Later, when they’re alone, she asks him again if he would break it off if he found out his woman had been with other men before. He says yes, any guy would do that. She says, well, I guess we have to break ours, because I’ve been with another man before you. She won’t tell him who. He doesn’t understand why she had to tell him, but she HAD to. He says that if he tells her the man’s name, he’ll marry her, anyway. She says she’s not begging, and he shouldn’t think he’s better than her because of this. He’s obviously been with other women, and he says that’s not the same thing. Pat rightly asks How come it isn’t? His response is “Because.” And if she thinks it’s equal she’s like one of those “radical freaks.” Oh, yes, women agitating for equality, how freakish of them to desire sexual agency. Fuck you, Monty. This is her last chance, he says; if he won’t tell her who it was, it’s over. She doesn’t respond, so he says Goodnight and leaves.

Four days later, he comes back, looking haggard and sleep-deprived. He begs her to take him back; he’ll forgive everything. She says she loves him, but if he ever throws this up in her face, or mentions it again, she is done-zo.

Pat is happy again, but Monty’s letters annoy her. She’s occasionally plagued with self-doubt about this union. As her wedding day approaches, she throws her energies behind that. She goes to town one day and sees Warren Graves, he of the first drink and kiss. He remembers her, a bit dimly; he recalls her first name, and that they met at a party, then finally pulls her last name out of thin air. He takes her to lunch, and they have wonderful, spirited, intelligent conversation. He doesn’t want it to end, so they go to the movies. She wonders if he’s going to try to hold hands, and thinks that Monty might object if he knew . . . Oh, Monty! She’d nearly forgotten about him all afternoon in this delightful company!

Cary Scott shows up in the newsreel. Warren knows him as well; apparently he’s a political advisor of some stripe, and he’s working with the League of Nations. He’s well and truly divorced, now, too. Warren asks if he can come up and see her sometimes while he’s working in Washington. She says no and mentions that she’ll be busy with her wedding. Deep down, however, she knows that she can’t possibly marry Monty now. Warren had so charmed her this afternoon and she didn’t think of her fiancé at all.

After a rough night of rumination, she wires Monty and when he arrives, breaks their engagement. Monty goes back to college, fails out of school, and blames Pat for ruining his career. Yup, because she made you stupid, right? Despite his wrath, he never breathes a word of her secret to anyone. What a gentleman!!

Pat’s family, meanwhile, remonstrate with her; they say she’s going to be an outcast if she does this. She doesn’t care. The only one on her side is Jimmie. They have a conversation, and he says that he knows that Pat is in love with Cary. She should write to him. She says she can’t, and begs him not to do so, either. So he doesn’t. He sends a telegram instead.

Pat is wandering in town some weeks later, when she comes upon Cary. He’s just arrived and he knows about her broken engagement because Jimmie send him a cablegram. They go together to visit Jimmie, and shortly after, he sends them away and tells them to go have lunch. They go back to Holiday Knoll and go to the library. She tells him that Cary has spoiled any other man for her. And he asks her, once again, to marry him. And she says she supposes so. She tells him about Dee and Jimmie’s original arrangement, and he’s amenable. He starts to draw up the contract, and she says, “Oh, make it twenty years instead of a month,” and that he’ll have to be a constant husband, because there are so many men in the world!

[break]

It’s rather surprising in 2021 that this book was so scandalous, isn’t it? While some segments of the population do still have this morality mindset, we have come a long way from 1923. However, this book shows us an interesting glimpse into the contemporary mindset, and why the “age of the flapper” was such a big deal in American history.

Post World War I, the United States underwent a bunch of change. Cities grew and wealth more than doubled, which ushered many Americans into a consumer society. Commercial radio stations slowly became popular, which caused many to buy radios. Movies exploded and going to the theatre became a weekly pastime. In addition, the fact that automobiles became much cheaper encouraged society to become more mobile. The ability for more to travel by car, in turn, sprang up businesses to accommodate such travel, like gas stations and lodging.

With the economic changes came societal changes. The iconic image of the period, the flapper, danced her way into the decade. You’ve seen her like in media of the period – the short hairstyle and knee-length skirts and dresses, smoking a cigarette, wearing lipstick, dancing the night away at a dimly-lit jazz club. The 19th Amendment had just passed, giving women the right to vote. While it would still be many decades before women even got near to full equality, voting rights, some jobs outside the home, and the new consumer culture got them on the path towards it.

The flapper was deemed more promiscuous than her sisters before her, as Victorian-era inhibitions were broken and loosened. The rise of “petting parties” (and petting in general) scandalized many elders. Petting parties did not mean sex; couples kissed and made out and perhaps groped one another, but no nookie, and each couple stayed with their own partners. Even those who didn’t participate in these parties dated multiple men before settling down, which was also a deviation from the previous generation and made many Mrs. Grundys (slang term for a tight-laced or priggish person) clutch their pearls. One such 1922 New York Times article complains that “some girls were deliberate vamps,” and won’t someone think of the boys?? From the same article:

These boys have gone to their mothers, said Miss Richards, and said: “Mother, it is so hard for me to be decent and live up to the standards you have set me, and to always keep in mind the loveliness and purity of girls. How can I do it with this cheek dancing, and if I pull away they call me a prude. And when I take a girl home in the way that you have told me is the proper fashion she is not satisfied and thinks I am slow.”

In addition to a change in mores, the rise of birth control availability was making it possible for women to explore their sexuality without being saddled with an unwanted pregnancy (especially as the only options were raising the child or visiting a back-alley abortionist, where the risk of perforation and infection was VERY high).

This is a very brief overview of the decade and all the change that made it so different, so if you’d like to learn more, I’ve placed some websites in the show notes. In addition, there are also some great slang dictionaries, some words of which I’ve sprinkled throughout this episode.

Well, that’s the show. Please like, subscribe, rate, all that good stuff. The Forgotten Library is available on most podcast aggregators. There’s a Twitter account and now a Tumblr for side projects and other little bits that won’t fit other places, so please check it out. Transcripts and source materials are available on the website, and if you enjoy what I do and would like to show some appreciation, you can Buy Me a Coffee – think of it as a little tip jar that takes Paypal and Stripe. Links for all of this are in the show description.

Until next time, I’m Nikki Gee, your intrepid library haunter.

References and More Information

Anonymous (1922). Mothers Complain that Modern Girls “Vamp” Their Sons at Petting Parties. The New York Times. https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1922/02/17/98986843.pdf

Digital History: the 1920s. https://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/era.cfm?eraID=13&smtID=1

Doll, J. (2012). How to Sound Like the Bee’s Knees: a Dictionary of 1920s Slang. The Atlantic. https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2012/10/how-sound-bees-knees-dictionary-1920s-slang/322320/

Fabian, W. (1923). Flaming Youth. Boni & Liveright.

Fee, E. (2010). Samuel Hopkins Adams (1871–1958): Journalist and Muckraker. American Journal of Public Health, 100(8). https://dx.doi.org/10.2105%2FAJPH.2009.186452

History.com Editors (2010). The Roaring Twenties History. https://www.history.com/topics/roaring-twenties/roaring-twenties-history

Weeks, L. (2015). When ‘Petting Parties’ Scandalized the Nation. National Public Radio. https://www.npr.org/sections/npr-history-dept/2015/05/26/409126557/when-petting-parties-scandalized-the-nation

Samuel Hopkins Adams Collection [finding aid]. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Libraries Special Collections Research Center. Retrieved via web: https://library.syr.edu/digital/guides/a/adams_sh.htm

More 1920s slang: http://www.huffenglish.com/gatsby/slang.html

https://www.shotinthedarkmysteries.com/1920s-slang-terms-and-definitions/