"The war was over but there was one more yet to fight, the war against the sentimentality that survived from the era of extravagant gestures. It was a thing easier to destroy than to fight. In his mind, he saw men who had swung their partners, great bearded men who had waltzed down the stately minuets of the old Southern order, pause suddenly in the midst of their revels to stand for a moment with glasses uplifted to the sky—so to speak—a last gay toast to Charles Lindbergh."