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FLAMING

YOUTH

do not rise above Charley Chaplin. But we wander. We were discussing your way-way inside, weren’t we? Why its sudden discomposure?” “I thought you could tell me. You know so much, Bobs. I’m getting bored with the things I used to like. I think it’s talking with Mr. Scott. He’s so different, and he makes the rest seem dull.” “Yes; Scott is a bit of a prig,” said Osterhout with intention. “He isn’t! flashed Pat indignantly. “He’s the best dressed man at the club. Jimmie James says so.” As

the physician smiled at this naive refutation she added: “Well, a man can’t be a prig and look the way Mr. Scott always does, can he?”

“Obviously not.”

“Tt’s only because he’s been about the world so much and knows such a lot about music and art and books and —and things.”

“Well, you’ve had the advantages of a liberal and ladylike education yourself. Kindred spirits. Don’t fall in love with Cary Scott, Infant. Remember he’s a married man,” smiled Osterhout.

“Fall in Jove with him? falling in love with you!

grandfather!

Why, Id as soon think of He’s old enough to be my

But I think he’s awfully good for me,”

she added naively. Scott, Bobs?”

“Don’t

you love to talk with Mr.

“Oh, I just adore it!’ simpered the doctor, clasping fervent hands. “Now you’re laughing at me,” she pouted. “He’s always

laughing at me.

That doesn’t help much.”

“Sometimes it does, Bambina.

to laugh at yourself.”

It might even teach you