is the person best qualified to impart the facts of life to her daughter.
“The following chapters are intended as guides for the use of parents in imparting to their children the facts of sex in a clean, wholesome way. Physical details should not be introduced too abruptly. It is best to begin with references to flowers. . . .”
Dorothy wondered what her mother would say had she known of the presence of this book in Dorothy’s room. She observed that her mother had somewhat distorted the order of events as prescribed in the work and had laid undue stress on kissing. She shoved the book back at the bottom of the pile. There was no danger of detection, for the work was enclosed in brown paper, and on it was written in a youthful feminine hand “Geography.” Dorothy reflected that she had never returned this book to the girl from whom she had borrowed it. Not that it mattered. That girl had long since eloped with an assistant movie director. She would hardly need the book. Anyhow, the book had some historic value, for there had been a great ado about the elopement.
Arnold Deering, having been informed of Dorothy’s enrollment at St. Cecilia, proposed a little farewell party before Dorothy “entered conventry,” which was one of his little jests, he explained. They would go to the theatre, then to the Battle Royale, a new dance club instituted by an entrepreneur who had learned something from the success of after-theatre meeting places similarly named, at which the entertainment was furnished by colored performers. Dorothy had been at the Plaza, the Biltmore, the Ritz and the various institutions distinguished by French names and not-so-French habitués, but the “Battle
Royale” was something new, ostensibly exclusive, not for the proletariat. It was whispered—but not too softly—
[60]
