 How did Mr. Lane know May Berriman?
PEGGY FINDS THE THEATER I Dramatic Dialogue “Of course, this is no surprise to us,” Thomas Lane said to his daughter Peggy, who perched tensely on the edge of a kitchen stool. Mrs. Lane smiled gently and placed her soft white hand on her daughter’s lean brown one. You may be one of these girls, and if you are, we want you to be prepared for it. 5 “It seems to me, Tom, that Margaret has a pretty good idea of what she’s doing,” Mrs. Lane said. If she were all starry-eyed and expected to see her name in lights in a few weeks, I’d vote against her going, but I’m beginning to think that maybe she’s right about this being the best time.” Before I came out here to Rockport to edit the Eagle , I worked as a reporter on one of the best papers in New York. 6 Mrs. Lane patted Peggy’s arm and said, “We won’t keep you in suspense long, dear. As the little bay horse heard her coming, she stamped one foot and softly whinnied a greeting. As Peggy mixed some oats and barley for her pet and checked to see that there was enough straw in the stall, she thought about her life in Rockport and the new life that she might soon be going to. 7 Rockport, Wisconsin, was a fine place, as pretty a small town as any girl could ask to grow up in. Peggy had lived all her life here, knew every tree-shaded street, every country road, field, lake, and stream. All of her friends were here, friends she had known since her earliest baby days. Seeing the image of herself hungry and tired, going from office to office looking for a part in a play, Peggy suddenly laughed aloud and brought herself back to reality, to the warm barn smell and the big, soft-eyed gaze of Socks. Fighting down an impulse to rush right into the kitchen to see how they were coming along, Peggy continued down the driveway and turned left on the slate sidewalk past the front porch of her family’s old farmhouse and down the street toward Jean Wilson’s house at the end of the block. 9 II Dramatic Decision Upstairs at the Wilsons’, Peggy found Jean swathed in bath towels, washing her long, straight red hair, which was now white with lather and piled up in a high, soapy knot.
 She was a friend from when he worked in New York.
 She was his former teacher.  She was an old friend of Mrs. Lane.  She was his childhood friend.  She was a friend from when he worked in New York.