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FLAMING

YOUTH

“You're trying to keep me from marrying someone else because you can’t have me, yourself,” she accused. “Do you think that of me, Pat?” “Oh, no;no!

me so hateful?”?

Idon’t.

You know I don’t. What makes

She threw herself upon him, pressed her

face close to his, turned so that their lips met; then drew

back with a questioning look in her eyes. “That was a very white kiss,” she murmured discontentedly. “You're so strange to-day.” ‘“There’s more, Pat. It isn’t so easy to say.” Her intuition leapt to meet his thought. “It’s about this.” She touched her cheek to his again. ‘‘With other men. I won't, if you don’t want me to.” “TI can’t claim any promises from you. You wouldn’t keep them anyway.” “I would,” was the instant and indignant response. “No; probably I wouldn’t,” she amended, her voice trail-

ing off, “after you’d been away from me for a while. But what’s the harm, Cary?” “T’ve told you; it’s dangerous.” “And I’ve told you; it’s not, for me. Suppose I’m in love with the man. Must I act like an icicle?” “Ah, that is a different matter. If you’re really in love.” “But how am I to tell whether I am or not without letting him make Jove to me?” The naive logic of it left Scott without adequate answer.

After

all, these direct

contacts

were

the very

essence and experiment of mating, the empiric method which inexorable Nature prescribes. Had the modern flapper, with her daring contempt of what older generations considered the proprieties if not the normal decencies of social intercourse, only reverted to a simpler, more natu-

ral method?

Of course, carrying the scheme a little fur-

—