You know," she went on--"you know what the 'Saturday
Evening' is. Plenty of the girls who are not 'out' belong, and a
good many of last year's debutantes come, as well as the older
girls of three or four seasons' standing. You could call it
representative couldn't you? Well, they always serve punch; and
you know yourself that you have seen men there who have taken more
than they should."
"Yes, yes," admitted Condy. "I know Carter and the two Catlin
boys always do."
"It gets pretty bad sometimes, doesn't it?" she said.
"It does, it does--and it's shameful. But most of the girls--
MOST of them don't seem to mind."
Miss Bessemer stiffened a bit. "There are one or two girls that
do," she said quietly. "Frank Catlin had the decency to go home
last night," she continued; "and his brother wasn't any worse than
usual. But Jack Carter must have been drinking before he came.
He was very bad indeed--as bad," she said between her teeth, "as
he could be and yet walk straight. As you say, most of the girls
don't mind. They say, 'It's only Johnnie Carter; what do you
expect?' But one of the girls--you know her, Laurie Flagg--cut a
dance with him last night and told him exactly why. Of course,
Carter was furious. He was sober enough to think he had been
insulted; and what do you suppose he did?"
"What? what?" exclaimed Condy, breathless, leaning toward her.
"Went about the halls and dressing-rooms circulating some dirty
little lie about Laurie.
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