/0/13328/coverbig.jpg?v=80d5f03ce1658769eba7b2c76a8f2fdc)
As the evening wore on-and one young man after another asked Jocelyn Montrevor if she were going to Ascot, what? or to Henley, what? or what? she wondered more and more if this were all that life would ever hold for her. Would she never meet a man, a real man who had done something? These boys around her were very pleasant, she admitted to herself;