I don't see any sense in writing about this, Byron protested, rather hotly, Mary thought. It's too much like Edith Wharton's set.
Well, the low life of your people is exotic. It has a splendid, fantastic quality. And the humour! How vital it is, how rich in idiom! Picturesque and fresh! I don't think the Negro has been touched in literature as yet.
I'm afraid I don't know very much about the low life of my people. Byron's tone was cold.
There's the college life . . .
I went to a white college. Byron turned away.
I seem to have offended your friend, Gareth said to Mary. I wonder how.
Oh, no you haven't. It's just because he's embarrassed at meeting a great author. Mary was surprised to find herself defending Byron. You see, he's probably never before faced a real novelist.
Shrugging his shoulders, Gareth lighted a cigarette.
I wonder, he said, if we could persuade Miss Waldeck to sing Stand still, Jordan?
