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FLAMING

YOUTH

“TI don’t know,” answered Mona reflectively. “We women are queer machines, Dee. Perhaps it’s just that Jimmy isn’t the right man.” “Then I haven’t met the right man yet. It would be pretty weird if he came along afterward, wouldn’t it? So perhaps I’d better wait.” “No; I think perhaps you’d better not, if you really like Jimmy. There might not be any right man for you, in that sense. Some of us are made that way.” “Yes; I suppose so. But why choose me to run the house? Con would do it better, wouldn’t she?” “Possibly. But if she’s to do it, I'd have to tell her what [ve just told you. And I don’t want to break in on her happiness.” “Qh, happiness,” murmured Dee in a curious tone. “You don’t think she’s happy?” queried the mother. “Or perhaps you don’t believe in that kind of happiness. Cynicism at your age is a pose.” “It isn’t that. But I don’t believe Con and Freddie are going too well together.” “Why not?” “Freddie’s hitting the booze quite a bit. Besides, he hasn’t as much money as Con thought. Not nearly. And she’s a high-speed little spender, you know.” “Yes; she’s certainly that,” agreed Mona, bethinking herself of the monthly bills which came in after the eldest sister’s allowance had been expended in a variety of manners for which the spender was cheerfully unable to account.

“Doing fifty thousand sand dollar income won’t ness,” opined the shrewd if she doesn’t pull up.” “TDoesn’t she care for

dollar things on a fifteen thouspeed ’em up the Road to HappiDee. “She’ll make a hash of it, Fred, do you think?”