FLAMING
YOUTH
95
~ “Good God!” he thought. “This child! Does she know what it is that she is feeling?” He felt an access of sheer pity; thought that he must speak to Stancia of this. The music panted itself to silence. Pat lifted smiling, unfathomable eyes to his and let them drop. “Oh!” she breathed ecstatically. “What shall I do with you now, Miss Pat?” he asked. “Oh, stick me anywhere. This is the supper number. Billy’s my provider. I think he’s on the veranda.” Misgivings beset Scott that the errant Billy would prove a doubtful source of supply, but he took the girl out into the dimness. Propped against a corner pillar, young Mr. Grant gazed upon the moon with an expression of foreboding, which was almost immediately justified by the event. HH. leaned upon the railing, and it became evident that he would not be supping that evening. Quite the contrary. “Down and out,” commented Pat, equally without sur-
prise or resentment. ‘“Let’s go. Take me back to Con. Someone will come and get me; I’ve turned down a couple of the boys for supper.” “Perhaps,” said Scott formally, “you would honour me by accepting mesas substitute for the recreant Billy.” Pat gave a little, hoarse crow of delight. “How divine of you!” She was at that stage of articulate development where only the highest-pressure adjective would “Come on. I know the best serve her facile emotions. corner in the place if somebody hasn’t snitched it already.” Established The corner proved to be unsnitched. order, varied and large a cavalier her gave there, Pat Bobs’s forgot almost “I it. of half only to countermand ‘You know Bobs?” darn diet,” she grumbled.
