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 FLAMING YOUTH T’ve told you, that you’re so I am because I’ve done what “What d’you mean, better “I suppose you’ve never

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much better and purer than I did eo and purer?” had any affair with any

“Are you trying to pretend to believe that’s the same thing?”? His voice was incredulous, contemptuous. “Why isn’t it the same thing?” Young Mr. Standish suffered a paralysis of scandalised amazement. “Because it isn’t! For God’s sake! You talk like one of those radical freaks that spout on soapboxes.” “I’m not so sere they aren’t right about this man-andwoman thing,” declared Pat recklessly. In so speaking she felt that she had broken with conventionalities far more than in anything, however bold, previously enunciated in their talk. Monty’s square jaw became ugly. “I’m giving you your chance. You won’t tell me the man’s name?” Pat preserved the silence of obstinacy. It was more convincing than any negative. Also more exasperating. “Good-night!” bellowed her lover, and strode from the room. ' Almost immediately he was back, endued with a sad and noble expression. “Nobody shall ever know about this from me, Pat.

You’re safe.”

,

For three nights Pat washed her troubled soul with fears. Her family knew that there had been a lovers’ quarrel ;that was all.

Pat waited for Monty to break the

engagement formally or send her word that he wished her

to break it. Through all her grief of bereavement which, she repeatedly told herself, was the most sorrowful depth that her life had yet touched, that any life could touch,