FLAMING
YOUTH
227
“I’m going to put you out of this house in a minute if yeu don’t stop talking such trash.” You won’t help her?” “Not by so much as stirring a finger.” Then Pat, offering up a silent prayer to the genius of histrionics, played her trump card. “Will you help—me, then?” Her eyes were cast down; that was in the rdéle she had
assumed ; but she heard his pipe clatter to the floor, felt the insistence of his stare fixed upon her. “Bambina!l” It was long since he had called her by the old pet-name of her childhood. The realisation of what the reversion implied almost broke down her resolution. But he instantly recovered his ‘self-command; was wholly the physician. “Tell me about it,” he said gently. “What is there to tell more?” She threw out her arms in what she deemed the proper gesture. “Are you sure?” “Yes. Or I’d never have come to you.” “Who is the man?” Pat shook her head. She had not invented the man even in her own mind. “Tell me, Pat.”
Her lips set firm indicating (as she had scen determination “registered” on the screen) that rather would she die than betray her lover. “The damned scoundrel has got to marry you.” “He can’t.” “Why? Is he married?” She was quite pale with Her head inclined slowly. emotion now, living into her part thoroughly. Pat “Then I'll drive the dirty whelp out of town. me.” tell you yow’re not going to leave this room until
