And Wilbur Cowan, who was going to war, had invited her to be present that evening at the opening of Newbern's new and gorgeous restaurant, where the diners, between courses and until late after dinner, would dance to the strains of exotic and jerky music, precisely as they did in the awful city.
Winona had not even debated a refusal.

The boy should be gratified.

Nor did she try to convince herself that her motive was wholly altruistic.
She had suddenly wished to mingle in what she was persuaded would be a scene of mad revelry.

She had definitely abandoned the untrodden ways.
She thought that reading about war might have unsettled her ideals.
Anyway, they were unsettled.

She was going to this place of the gay night life--and she was going right! It was while she still waited, perturbed but outwardly cool, that the absorbed Sharon Whipple brushed her shoulder.