FLAMING
YOUTH
131i
him as executor of her estate, Osterhout
found Cary
Scott, dressed in evening clothes, waiting in the library.
On his return from his trip abroad Scott had unobtrusively resumed his established place at Holiday Knoll. He had seen as much of Constance as before, perhaps more, because Dee, between whom and Scott a very frank
and easy friendship had grown up, was occupied with Jameson James to the partial exclusion of other associations,
and
therefore
Scott
was
less with
her than
formerly. He did not like James. Scott and the doctor greeted each other cordially. “You have a festive air to-night,” remarked Osterhout. “Yes. It’s the special symphony concert this evening. Pm taking Constance.” “No, you’re not,” contradicted a hoarse and gay voice. Pat smiled upon them from the entrance. The two men turned to look at her. She stood, one hand above the tousled shimmer of her short, dark hair,
lightly holding by the lintel. In her eyes were laughter, anticipation, and a plea. Her strong, young figure preserving still much of the adorable awkwardness of undeveloped youth, had fallen into a posture of stilled exShe wore a sweater of some exotic, metallic pectancy. blue, a short, barred
skirt, and woollen
stockings, dis-
playing the firm, rounded legs. “You're taking me. Aren’t you?” she added in the husky, breaking sweetness of her voice. Into the minds of the two men darted diverse responses to the appeal of the interrupter. Cary Scott thought. “What a child it is!” Wiser. and more cognisant, through experience of the years, Robert Osterhout said within himself, “Good Lord!
“Why
It’s a woman.”
the charming substitution!” inquired Scott in
