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 FLAMING

YOUTH

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of a personality as simple and, in some ways, as innocent as a child’s; credulous, eager, resolute, confident, trust-

ing, and illumined with a lambent inner fire. “I was rude to you at first,”’ he confessed. “I am sorry, But I could not help it. I am like that.” “You shouldn’t be,” she chided. “Tell me what I should be and I will be it,”’ he declared,

“You could make me anything. room,

even

though

I was

When you came into the

angry,

there was

a flash of

understanding between us. You felt it, too?” “I felt something,” admitted she. “But I was angry, myself. How silly of you to give yourself the airs of genius !” “T have genius,” he averred quietly. Such profound conviction was in his tone that Pat was ready to believe him. As they turned to the elevated stairs he asked: “Will you come to my studio soon for music?” “Who else will be there?” “Nobody. Just you and I.” “No. I couldn’t do that. Ask Mrs. Carroll and Vil come.” “Why should you not come alone? Are you afraid of me? That would be strange.” “Of course I’m not afraid of you. Bu 2 “I will not make love to you. I will only make music to you.” Pat reflected that it might well prove to be much the same thing. When she left him it was with a half promise Before the week was out she had gone to his studio, Within the fortnight she had been there half a dozen times. She was drawn back to him by the lure of his marvellous music—“I play for no one as I play for you,” he said—and by the fascinafion of his strange and single-