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FLAMING
YOUTH
minded personality. Not only did he play for her, but he made her sing, experimenting with her voice, pointing out her errors, instructing her, laughing to shame her impatiences and little mutinies, himself patient with the
endurance and insight of the true artist. Ever responsive | to genuine quality of whatever kind, Pat let herself become. more and more involved in imagination and vagrant pos- | sibilities. In the matter of lovemaking he was faithful to his word. While she was his guest he never so much as offered to kiss her, rather to her resentful disappointment, to tell the truth. But when, one November afternoon, he was walking with her to where her car was waiting, he said without preface: “Colleen, I love you.” He had taken to calling her Colleen after hearing her sing an Irish ballad of that
title. Pat liked it. She gave her veiled and sombre glance.
“Do you really
love me?” “You know it. And you?” “T don’t know.” “T think you do.”
“T think it would be very stupid of me to fall in love with you.” “Why! 239
“We're not the same kind at all.
Some day I shall
marry and settle down and be good and happy and cor- |
rect, ever after. You don’t believe in marriage.” | “T believe in love. And in faith to be kept between tro who love. Don’t you?” “When you play to me I do. You could make me
‘believe anything then.” “Thea come back, Colleen, and let me play to you.”
