incensed Mrs. Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous falsehood. Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she feared, for the strength of his attachment. As for Jane, her anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more painful than Elizabeth's, but whatever she felt she was desirous of concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her
Confusion, though, does not make for good news copy. So the press as well as the other media-several papers, TV stations, and magazines that were pursuing follow-up stories-emphasized the only explanation available at the time: The wit- nesses, no different from the rest of us, hadn't cared enough to get involved. Amer- icans were becoming a nation of selfish, insensitive people. The rigors of modern life, especially city life, were hardening them. They were becoming "The Cold So- ciety," unfeeling and indifferent to the plight of their fellow citizens. In support of this interpretation, news stories began appearing regularly in which various kinds of public apathy were detailed. Also supporting such an inter- pretation were the remarks of a range of armchair social commentators, who, as a breed, seem never to admit to bafflement when speaking to the press. They, too, saw the Genovese case as having large-scale social significance. All used the word
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