He was an outsider, a "dead one," a "has been" and a "lemon." But Margaret was gracious to him, and Flossie Dickerson made no bones of her regard.
Dorothy, he was relieved and glad to see, was not present.
Lane had no particular object in mind.

He just wanted to rub elbows with this throng of young people.

This was the joy of life he had imagined he had missed while in France.

How much vain longing! He had missed nothing.

He had boundlessly gained.
Out on this floor a railing ran round the curve of the stairway.