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FLAMING YOUTH

“Now I'll have a highball, please, and we'll trail for home,” she directed.

“We won't be more than an hour

late if you hit it up with that hearse you drive. going to claim the loser’s end of the purse?”

Are you

“The loser’s? Oh, I see. But I thought that was the winner's.” “Don*t fall all over yourself with unbridled enthusiasm,” she jeered. “You've got to give three more rousing cheers than that to wake me up.” “Just at present I'm busy with the car. But to-night is coming. What dances will you give me?” “The lucky numbers. Seven and Eleven. <Aren‘t you flattered?” “Almost as much flattered as I am delighted.” She twisted in her seat to confront him. “Cary Scott, you’re a good bluffer, but it doesn’t go with me. Fou haven't fallen for me one little bit!” “J? Like an avalanche,” he protested. “I find you as charming as you are—startling.” “Ah, that startling stuff; you know what that is, don't you?” “T'm not sure that I do.” “I'm showing you my line; that’s all.” “And now I find you bewildering. Be kind to the stupidity of one who has not yet become fully acclimated to

his own amazing country.” “Yes; anyone could tell that you don’t fully belong with us. You see, every girl has her special line to show, nowadays.” “Like a commercial traveller?” “You've said it! It’s whatever is supposed to fit her

personality best. You go to a character reader—there’s a wiz in Carnegie Hall, who lays you out a complete map