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 FLAMING

night; I’m something else.

YOUTH

243

I don’t know whatI am.

Do

you?”
 * “No.??

“Don’t be cross with me.

Whatever it is that I am, it’s

sorry that it kissed you that way. I didn’t mean to make a josh of it.” He smiled. “One might as well try to be cross with a moonbeam.” They had come around by the side street, and now he held the garden gate back for her. The house was dim. Pat kissed her hand to the clematis arbour. “D’you remember?” she murmured. “Ts there one moment ever spent with you that I’ve forgotten?” “Would you like to forget?” “There are times when I would give anything in the world to forget.” “But I don’t want you to forget.” “You want me to have to bear this always?” “No. I don’t want you to be unhappy about it. I want—I don’t know what Ido want. Except now. Now I want to have this evening just to ourselves.” She opened a side door, spoke to a servant, moving about in the kitchen. “It’s all right, Katie.” Then to Scott: “Aren’t you coming in?” He hesitated, but when

she added

impatiently,

“Oh,

don’t be such a crab!” he followed her. “Go into the small conservatory,” she bade him. “That’s my work. I’ve fussed it up into a sort of den.” She bounded upstairs and ran into her room, shook out

her eyes self felt

hair, gathered it, studied herself in the glass. Her were brilliant, heavy-lidded, dreamy. She shook herimpatiently; her strong, supervitalised young body cramped and pent in the close-fitting tailor-made