Evening star., 1909-06-01
CHAPTER V-Continued

Conover obediently gulped down the
loathed liquid and held out his cup with
an air of awkward contrition. for the sec
ond installment of his penance.
Now. do | get forgiven" he begged.
Its vile stuff An ] drank every drop.
Dey. Please be friends again. Aw. please
do
You hig oversrown baby she said,
looking laughingy down into his red. re-
morseful face. You talk very. very loud
~ about being a grown man and a
financier. And some of the papers cal
you Brute Conover-the wretched sheets,
But you're only about ten years old. No
one knows You except me. To the others
YOU may he able 10 talk as if you were
grown up. but it never. imposes. on me
for minute
That's right" he assented wondering
ly. II never thought of it that way be-
fore i don't know why il 10 except may
be because | never had any boyhood or
had chance to be young. ] seem TO
have been born grown up an on the look
ont to get the best of the next .felIar.
Then. when | get with you. lose about
twenty years and feel like kid. It's
great to he that way. Nobody else ever
makes me feel So
II suppose not Knocked the girl. "Your
other friends are fossly people all about
a million years old. And you look on
me as a child and try to talk and act
down to my level. 1t is very humiiating
I'm nearly twenty and quite grown up
and"
Your eyes are. anyhow commented
Caleb. They're two sizes too large for
your face.
rs that compliment If il is"
Il don't know" pursued Conover. 1
never noticed how big they were till one
Then. all of sudden, it struck me that
If your eyes wasn't so big you'd be li'ble
to tumble into your glass. Now you're
mad again he sighed. But it's true.
You're awful little. You don't much
moren come up to my elbow
when you're quite through saying
woozzey things about my size and my
eyes" said Desiree. coldly. perhaps you
won't mind talking of something sensi-
I'D like to talk little bout what you
said a few minutes ago. About my bein'
young. You don't get it quite right. I'm
not young an l never was or will be
except with you. When You an me are
together, some part of me that l don't
charge. Maybe / don't explain it very
clear. ! don't seem quite to understand
it myself Here's the idee: "D'you re-
member that measy little green-covered
French book / found you cryin over,
once? The Wee" of something.
You mean Barriere's Vie de Bo-
heme?'"
That's It, The French play you said
was wrote from a book by some other
parly-voo chap. You told me the story
of it, l remember. 1t didn't make much
Of a hit with me at the time, an I
couldn't quite see where the cry come in.
But l got to thinkin' of it when you
spoke just now. Remember the chap in
there who told the girl she was his
Youth an that If it wasn't for her he'd
be nothin. but just a plain grown man:
Twas her that KEEP him feelin' like a
boy. An then when she died-let's see
what was it he hollered? Something
bout
30. ma Jeunesse. c'est vous qu'on en-
terre." quoted Desiree.
Maybe so, assented Caleb doubtfully.
1T sounds like Chinee laundry ticket
to me. That was the part you were cryin'
over. too. What is it in English?"
= oh my Youth, it is you they are bury
ing," translated the girl.
That's the answer, said Conover,
gravely. Now lets talk about some
thing better worth while than me. l was
chinnin with Caine this afternoon about
you. He says if you marry the right sort