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FLAMING

YOUTH

133

“T can’t wait at all. My car is champing at the leash now.” Pat’s illumined face fell. “But I can’t go this way.” “Why not? I like you that way.” “But you’re always so awfully correct. I look like a mess.” “You look like”’—he searched for and found the picture—“like a medieval page.” She made a grimace. “Yes. A boy.” In frank unconsciousness she set her hands with spread fingers against her breasts.

“Flat, like a board,” she said dis-

consolately. “TI like it,” he reassured her. “It’s part of the charm.” She gave her characteristic soft crow of pleasure. “That’s the nicest thing you could possibly say to me. D’you mean it? Really?” “Of course I mean it. Why not?” “JT thought men liked girls to be just the other way. All rounded.” She peered at him doubtfully. “Perhaps it’s because you’re old,” she surmised. Taken aback for the moment he interpreted the innocent speech too literally. “I’m not as old as that. Though I don’t suppose—I rather wonder what yor meant by that.” “Oh, nothing! Just that the point of view must be different. Isn’t it? Less personal.” “It’s very personal in this case,” he retorted with a real warmth of friendliness for this strange and appealing child, “and quite simple. You’re a very delightful little

Pat.

Ilike your type.

Petite gamine.”

“What's that?”

“Tsn’t French taught in your school?” “Tt’s taught; but it isn’t necessarily learned,” she a=-

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