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FLAMING

missed the attendant.

YOUTH

“What did you really think when

I told you I wasn’t going to marry Monty?” A smile of justified cleverness lighted up his pain-wern face. “I’d never thought that you would.” “Cute little Jimmie! Why not?” “Too much brains. He’d never keep you interested and you found it out in time.” “Not too soon,” observed the girl with a grimace. “The family are still raising merry Hades about it.” “Naturally. You don’t think you’re entitled to any Sunday-school award for good behaviour on the thing, do you?” “No. I don’t,” admitted Pat. But she pouted. A silence fell between them. It lasted for a full turn around the garden. Tired of pouting, Pat broke it. “Want to play bezique, Jimmie?” “No.”

“Want me to read to you?” “No, dear.”

“What the devil do you want? Oh, I’m sorry, Jimmie! I believe P've got nerves. Never knew there were such things before.” “Pat, stop the chair.” “What’s the idea,

Jimmie?”

“Come around here where I can see you.” ‘As per order.” “T know the man.” “What man?” “The other man.” “T’ve been acquainted with several of °em in my life.” “So I’ve been given to understand. I’m talking about the man on whose account you broke your engagement.” “You’re seeing things, Jimmie. Monty himself is the nigger in that woodpile.”