Passages

From F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Bernice Bobs Her Hair":

"Oh, please don't quote 'Little Women'!" cried Marjorie impatiently. "That's out of style."
"You think so?"

"Heavens, yes! What modern girl could live like those inane females?" 125

"Do you mean to say that men notice eyebrows?"

"Yes -- subconsciously. And when you go home you ought to have your teeth straightened a little. It's almost imperceptible, still---"

"But I thought, interrupted Bernice in bewilderment, "that you despised little dainty feminine things like that."

"I hate dainty minds," answered Marjorie. "But a girl has to be dainty in person. If she looks like a million dollars she can talk about Russia, pingpong, or the League of Nations and get away with it." 126

Youth in this jazz-nourished generation is temperamentally restless, and the idea of fox-trotting more than one full fox trot with the same girl is distasteful, not to say odious. 119

If you talk so well to them that they forget they're stuck with you, you've done something. They'll come back next time, and gradually so many sad birds will dance with you that the attractive boys will see that there is no danger of being stuck -- then they'll dance with you." 127

An etermity of minutes later, riding down-town through the late afternoon beside Warren, the others following in Roberta's car close behind, Bernice had all the sensations of Marie Antoinette bound for the guillotine in a tumbrel. Vaguely she wondered why she did not cry out that it was all a mistake. 135

It was a guillotine indeed, and the hangman was the first barber . . . Would they blindfold her? No, but they would tie a white cloth around her neck lest any of her blood -- nonsense -- hair -- should get on her clothes. 135

After a minute's brisk walk she discovered that her left hand still held the two blond braids. She lanughed unexpectedly -- had to shut her mouth hard to keep from emitting an absolute peal. She was passing Warren's house now, and on impulse she set down her baggage, and swinging the braids like pieces of rope flung them at the wooden porch, where they landed with a slight thud. She laughed again, no longer restraining herself.

"Huh!" she giggled wildly, "Scalp the selfish thing!"

Then picking up her suitcase she set off at a half-run down the moonlit street." 140