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FLAMING

YOUTH

“Oh, I suppose so,” she said fretfully.

“If you want

to take the chance.” “What chance, dear love?”

“The chance every man takes that marries a girl of the kind you men all seem to want to marry. How many of the married set here d’you suppose are true to their husbands?” “JT don’t like you cynical, Pat. You've been letting something poison your mind.” “Not me. I see things as they are; that’s all. Ask Con. Ask Dee. Ask Bobs. Ask any of *em. You know you could have had Con if you’d really wanted her. And then I butted in.” Her chuckle was full of diablerie. It still persisted in her tone as she continued: “Cary, what would you do to me if I went straying off the reservation after we were married?”

“Nothing.” “Oh, don*t be so calm and superior and noble about it,” she fretted. “You'd tempt an angel to try a flutter just to see whether she would get by with it.” “What do you want me to say, Pat?” “T want you to tell me honestly how you think you’re going to hold me if I do marry you.” “Come over here.” She walked across to him, defiant, daring, provocative.

“Well?” “You love me, don’t you, Pat?” “You make me when you’re with me.” “And when I’m not?” “That’s just the trouble. You're there all the time, parked just around the corner and you won't let me love anybody else enough to—to do any good.” “And if I asked you now,” he said, low and insistent,

“you'd come back to me and be to me what you were before, Wouldn’t you?”