Tales of the Cloister
this life gay, and she was fond of her new friends. She was still sufficiently naïve to repeat the incident to them, and they treated it with off-hand good humor.
"The dear old thing means well," said one of them, "but she looks at the world with narrow, old-fashioned eyes. She can't realize that we have such a good time and yet are the 'square' crowd we are. Don't worry about her, Kate; we'll take care of you."
They did for a time, in their characteristic, easy-going way. But old friends fell out of the circle and new ones came, and it grew wider and also deeper. After a year or two "little Randolph" was no longer a novice to be counselled and advised. The "have beens" and the "might have beens" of the press and the stage caught her in their human eddies, and the undertow drew her down. She became a sophisticated young woman, learned New York pretty well on its gay side, talked about human nature, and thought she understood men and women. Her voice developed to the satisfaction of her teacher, who unselfishly suggested that she give it a final polish abroad. She was rather tired of New York by this time; she had lived there four years, and felt that it had few secrets and fewer novelties for her. She sailed for Paris.
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