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FLAMING

YOUTH

63

tontinued as if speaking to herself, “that I’d like to see her to-morrow morning.” “Why to-morrow morning?” asked Thorpe. He was a youth of slow imagination, but he was not stupid. Suddenly he laughed. “Oh!” he cried. “So that’s the idea! You little devil!” “No; it isn’t,” denied Pat, her cheeks flaming, and ran

back to the ballroom. At the entrance she collided with Scott Vincent, who

was looking for a vanished partner. “Pardon!” he said, cleverly saving her from a recoil against the door! “Oh; it’s the infanta!” He looked into her vivid face with appreciative amusement. ‘Don’t you want to give me this dance?” he asked. Her hot cheeks cooled. She considered him appraisingly though her heart beat quicker. He was so very good to look at! “No; I don’t,” she replied. “No?” he laughed. ‘“You’re frank, at least. Perhaps you'll be franker and tell me why.” “Because you didn’t ask me earlier.” “Indeed! But I hadn’t seen you,” he protested, surprised at himself at being put upon the defensive by this child. “T don’t like not being seen,” retorted Pat, with a calm-

ness worthy of an experienced flirt. “Well, I’m damned!” said Vincent breath.

softly, under his

He began to be interested in this quaint /pecimen.

“Oh! come! Give me a chance to make amends. How about a little supper?” “No,” answered Pat with perverse satisfaction. “I’m going to bed. Good-night, Mr. Too-late.” ' She darted away from him, triumphantly satisfied of

having left a barb behind her.

He wouldn’t forget her