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 FLAMING

YOUTH

109

“Grand little idea!” boomed Dangerfield. “Let’s all go in!” “What! In our wet things?” objected young Mrs. Redfern. “I wouldn’t put my clammy stockings on again for a million swims.” “Why wear stockings?” “Why wear anything?” cried someone in a tone of inspiration. “That’s an idea!” shouted Dangerfield. “A swimming party, &@ la Adam-and-Kve in the warranted respectable darkness. Who’s on?” “Come off it, Wally!” said a woman’s voice. ‘“You’ve got only one pool.” “We'll splice two tennis nets together and run them down the middle for a barrier.” “Why not?” cried the high-pitched, excited voice of Mrs. Carson. “We’re all married here.” “Not that I know of,” remarked Dee.

“Not that anybody knows of for me,” added Emslie Selfridge in a voice of mincing propriety. “Wanted, a chaperon.” ‘You two can stand on the bank and be policemen,” suggested the hostess. “One on each side.” “Not on your life,” objected one of the men. “One go, all go!” The popping of a champagne cork expressed the ex-

plosive quality of the neurotic atmosphere. Dee,” whispered Sally Dangerfield. it will gum a good game.”

“Come on,

“If you quit now

“Oh, well, you can’t bluff me,” returned Dee aloud.

“I

hate bathing suits anyway.” There was a shout of acclaim. The party organised and moved forward across the dripping courtyard under the guidance of a pair of lights. The men rigged the