*Polly*
The ball reminds me of nothing so much as a host of sparrows perched on a railing. They descend from a tree in a huge group, chattering madly. One bird takes wing, and the rest hysterically soar up after, the whole group coming down almost immediately on a railing all of ten yards to the left. Or to the right.
The key to controlling the evening, I decide, is to be the sparrow that determines the behavior of the flock. When the ballroom becomes intolerably crowded, I drift onto the terrace, taking with me a core group of gentlemen glued to my side by a pleasing mixture of lust and admiration. What’s more, they are men who conform to my sense of elegance.
When Alpha Van Vechten joins us, his velvet coat an aggressive shade of purple striped with peach, I am just dismissive enough
