The lights dim, and a single spot pokes over the silhouetted shoulder of the inquisitor into the eyes of his chosen victim. The victim fidgets in the straight-backed chair and the third degree commences. The victim might be Social Lion-Huntress Elsa Maxwell. "Miss Maxwell, how old are you?" Miss Maxwell, nonplussed: "Why, 73." "Miss Maxwell, if the moral climate of your set is so stifling, why don't you get out of it?" Miss Maxwell: "If I withdrew from everyone who bounced from bed to bed, I'd have very few friends." Or the...
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