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FLAMING YOUTH
“For a while.” “Why?” she demanded, “when I need you so much?” “No. You don’t really need me.” “When I want you, then?” she said imperiously. “Tsn°t that just a little selfish of you?” “Of course itis. Have I ever pretended to be anything else? I always get what I want if I can, and I never give up anything I want without trying for it. Why should I?” “An unanswerable proposition,” he made reply, with his subtly ironic smile. “But the tide never runs all one way; I'm afraid that you’ve got some harsh disillusionments in prospect.” “T don’t care. If I have to pay, Pll pay.” “Tt may hurt.”
“Let it! Pm not afraid.” “Because you've never been hurt. If I were a praying nan Pd pray that you never may be. But that’s foolish of course. Life will hurt you. It hurts all of us.” “Has it hurt you, Cary?” “Tt is hurting me now—a little. Not more than I deserve.” “Why do you deserve? You couldnt help iking*— he smiled—“being in love with me, could you?” “T could have helped making love to you.” She had a superb gesture. “Could you, though! When I wanted you to? What harm has it done?” “So long as it hasn*t harmed yor——” “Tt’s helped me. That’s why I can*t bear to think of your going. [Im going to miss you so terribly!” There followed the little, slighting, boyish, devil-may-care hunch of the shoulders. “Not for long, though. I never do. I go crazy over someone and think he’s the whole thing and I can’t see anything in the world without him, and then, pout! It’s all over.”
