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FLAMING

YOUTH

people were around or not. . . . There’s nobody around right now in this world, Cary... . “T’ve got to go in,” she sighed at last. “And I don’t want to at all. Tell me good-night.” His last kiss was very tender, very gentle, long and almost passionless, ‘“That’s good-bye, my darling,” he said. “IT don’t want it to be good-bye.” She stretched out her arms to him.

“Oh, I do wish it was us!”

He took her hands, pressed them to his hot eyes and released them. ‘“Good-night, Pat. Go in. Please!” “T will,” she acquiesced, obedient for once before the pain in his voice. “But you’re driving me over to-morrow, aren’t your” “To-morrow is another day,” he said. Almost was

Pat

convinced

on the morning

following

that she had made a mistake in commandeering Scott ond his car for the trip. The train would have been far quicker and possibly more amusing. For Scott was unaccountably silent all the early part of the drive. Having arrayed herself with much selective thought for the occasion, and being conscious of her charm as set forth by a

gown that clung to her budding form, and a tight little, bright little hat prisoning her dusky, mutinous hair, Pat resented the lack of attention she was receiving and thought proper to “jolly” her companion into a more

fitting frame of mind. She elicited little response in kind. “You’re about as gay as a hearse this morning,” she observed with annoyance as the car main highway to a more sparsely “This isn’t anybody’s funeral that we going, anyway?” “By a route I like to take when

swung aside from the travelled back road. I know. Where are I’ve plenty of time.