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 FLAMING

YOUTH

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We'll reach the Maple Swamp in time for luncheon.

I’ve

packed a hamper. I’m sorry if I’m dull, dear.” “You’ze quiet. I don’t know that you’re dull, exactly. I don’t quite see you ever being dull. But I don’t want to be quiet to-day. It gives me too much time to think, And thinking’s the very thing I want the least of right now. I just want to be happy—because I’m with you. There’s nothing to be solemn about, is there?” “Nothing!” he agreed. But though he talked with his usual charm thereafter, she was resentfully conscious of

the effort it cost him. Arrived at the luncheon place he ran the car up beside a stone wall enclosing a coppice which was all ablaze with the last, defiant splendour of the year. Autumn was going down with all colours flying. Pat snuffed the ksea scented air with nostrils that quivered. “Oof!? she cried. “I’m ravenous. What a apiffy

luncheon!

Coffee?

Hold

out your cup.

When

and

where shall we lunch together next time, I wonder? Isn’t there an old song or something, ‘When Shall We Two Eat Again?’ Oh, no; it’s ‘When Shall We Three Meet Again?” I’m glad there aren’t three of us here; aren’t you?” she

chattered on. “You don’t look glad about anything. What are you thinking about so hard?” “Only that we aren’t likely to see each other for some time.” “Some time?” Her face showed alarm and suspicion. “You’re not going to see me any more at all,” she accused. “Ts that it?” He smiled wanly. “Hardly as bad as that.” “When, then?” 39 “How can I tell? Business she echoed scornfully. “Business!” away—from me.”

‘“You’re going