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FLAMING

YOUTH

9

He set it down, crossed the room and kissed his wife. There was an effect of habitual and well-bred gallantry

in the act. He was a slender, alert, companionable looking man with a quizzical expression. Dr. Osterhout poured out a cocktail which he offered to Mrs. Fentriss. She regarded it contemptuously.

“Bob, you devil! That’s only half a drink.” “It’s more than you ought to have.” “Pour me a real one. At once! Ralph; you do it. Come on.” With a shrug and a deprecatory smile at the physician, Ralph Fentriss filled the glass to the brim. The Fentriss cocktails were famous far beyond the suburban limits of Dorrisdale for length as well as flavour. “Here’s to Prohibition,” said their concoctor in his suave voice, before drinking; “and to your better health,

my dear.” “A toi,” she responded carelessly. ‘Leave the shaker, will you, Ralph? Bob and I are talking.” Fentriss nodded and went. A moment later the concert grand in the big living room below stairs responded te a touch at once delicate, strong and distinctive.

How

I used to love his music!” said Mona Fentriss

half to herself; “and still do,” she added. “Bob.” She turned upon her physician with laughing reproach in her eyes. “Don’t you know better, after all these years, than to try to keep me from doing anything I want to

do? I always get what I want.” “If you don’t, it’s not for lack of trying.” “J don’t even have to try very hard. Life has been a generous godfather to me. But I’ve always wanted more. Like Oliver Twist, wasn’t it? Or Jephthah’s daughter?” Dr. Osterhout grinned. “It was the horse leech’s daughters that were always crying ‘Give! Give! ”