CHAPTER VI
Center High School, the city's only at a time when half a million souls beat up like sea around it, a model and modern institution that was presently and paradoxically to become architectural paragon for what to avoid in future high-school buildings, was again within street-car distance, except on usually bland days, when Lilly and Flora Kemble would walk home through Vandaventer Place, the first of those short, private thoroughfares of pretentious homes that were presently to run through the warp of the city like threads of gold.
On these homeward walks Flora and Lilly, who referred to each other as "my chum," were fond of peripatetically exchanging the views, the consciousness, and the sweetness of sixteen.
"If you had your choice, Lilly, what house would you select for yours in
Vandaventer Place?"
"None."
"Why?"
"I don't want to live in between stone gates with 'No Thoroughfare' stuck on each end."
"You're the funniest girl! What do you mean, 'No thoroughfare'? Don't you want to be exclusive and private?"
"Yes, but a person can be private somewhere high—high—not just stuck between gates like everybody else. Sappho always sat on a balcony that overlooked the Aegean Sea."
"Maybe she did, and she jumped off, too, but I'm not talking to-day's Greek history lesson. I'm talking about regular folks. Between the gates of Vandaventer Place would be good enough for me. Wouldn't I just love to be mistress over one of these houses and give parties with an awning stretched out over the sidewalk!"