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FLAMING

her face. at;

YOUTH

278

“We're terrible boobs, Cary. . . . Let’s stop

“That’s wholly in your hands, dear love.” “Yes,” she said discontentedly; “you’ve always put everything up to me; let me go my own way—that’s why TI’ve gone so far. I wonder if you knew that was the way to get me. You’re so dam’ clever. . . . Like what’s-hisname—Mephistoph—no, Macchiavelli, wasn’t it?” She dropped to the floor in front of him, clasped her hands over his knee, turned upward a shadowy and bewitching face, speaking in a lowered voice. “Listen, dear. Next week I’m going back to Philadelphia, to finish out my visit with Cissie. But—I won’t go to Cissie’s, not till the next day. We'll have that time together; that’ll be our goodbye. And then you must go away.” “If you wish it so,” he assented steadily. “I don’t wish it so. But it’s got to come some time.

You say so yourself.” “Yes; it’s got to come some time. Unless re “T know the unless. I don’t say I’ll never send for you to come back. I might.” “V’ll never come back except with my freedom. And if you send for me it must be for good and all.” “TY wish I could, Cary. I wish I were sure,” she said wistfully. She jumped to her feet. ‘Tell me good-night,”’ she commanded, holding out her arms. “And you’re to come early to-morrow and take me for a long walk.” Overnight, luck, which

had

so befriended

the lovers,

turned against them. They returned from their morning’s tramp, weary but elate with the vigour of strong sunshine and woodland air. Pat, her glorious eyes welling light, paused by the open library window.

“Js there anything in the world that we haven’t talked to a finish to-day, Cary?” she demanded, laughing.