They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. “All right so far,” she said to herself. Without realizing what she has done, she's made a dreadful mess of it. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences.
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