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 FLAMING

YOUTH

299

“Why didn’t you go down to Princeton?” “Didn’t want to,” she said airily.

“Monty Standish asked you, didn’t he?” “He said something about it.” “They say he’s the greatest end we’ve had for ten years.” James was a Princeton alumnus. “He’s a goodlooking youngster, Pat.” The girl flushed and her eyes shone. “He’s a winner to look at,” she agreed. “They tell me you’ve added him to your collection.” “Is it? The point is that you wouldn’t go because you felt you had to come here. Isn’t that so?” “TI didn’t want to go, anyway,” lied Pat gallantly. “I’m worn with football twice a week.” “Well, you’ve got to stop spoiling me by coming here every day. It’s bad for me; the doctor says so. I won’t have it.” “Are you going to close the house to me?” retorted Pat saucily.
 * That’s all guff,” replied the inelegant Pat.

“You'll have to hire a guard.

Go on, swear,

Jimmie.” “Oh, you go to the devil!” said the invalid, laughing.

“If Princeton loses to-day

€

But Princeton won and Pat was saved from the undy_ ing remorse which should (but probably would not) have consumed her spirit had Standish “fallen down” and involved his team in defeat. He came back the following week-end, a hero of the first calibre, and undertook to ignore Pat at the Saturday dance at which he was unofficial guest of honour. It would have been a more successful attempt if his eyes had not constantly strayed from whatever partner he was with, to follow Pat’s pliant and swaying form in the arms of

some happier man.

On the morrow his stern resolution,