She struggled to sit upright. His arm lay loosely on her shoulder, and his face was immobile.

“What’s it all about?” Barbara asked desperately.

“Ah.” Frank’s lips smiled. “All?” he questioned.

“You know about life,” Barbara said tensely. “I don’t know anything. Teach me... tell me.”

“Life?” Now Frank’s face and voice smiled. He shook his head. “I know nothing about life,” he protested.

“But Ethel said that you knew everything.”

“I know everything that Ethel needs to know. All she can understand,” he said simply.

“You mean... it’s not enough for me?” she asked sharply.

“I’m... afraid not.” His voice was moody and self-contained.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Do you always... do what girls want you to do?” Barbara asked breathlessly.

“That’s always my intention,” he told her evenly. “So long as the girl knows what she wants.”

“And if I don’t know what I want?” Barbara’s voice frightened her. It was almost shrill.

“Then... I might help you find out,” Frank admitted. “Upon invitation.”

“What has Ethel told you about me?” Barbara demanded.

“Almost nothing. Only that you were young and pretty, and were coming to see what makes a Mardi Gras tick... and wanted to have a good time in the bargain.”

“That’s all she told you?” Barbara persisted.

“That’s all. Except that she didn’t say how very young you were... nor how very beautiful.”

“Oh.” Barbara hesitated, searching for words. She was conscious of a mounting excitement. His calm infuriated her. She wanted to break through it... find the man which lay behind the cool exterior.

“I’m twenty-two,” she said slowly.

“Which is gloriously young.” His voice was grave.

“How old are you?” she flashed.

“It doesn’t matter.” He moved restlessly. “It happens that I’m thirty-five,” he said slowly.

“Suppose I told you that I’ve never been anywhere... never done anything? That I’ve lived like a half-dead thing all my life? That my mind and my body and my soul are virgin? What would you think?”

“I would never cease to envy some man the joy of awakening you,” he replied quietly.

“Suppose I told you that I broke my engagement with a boy I’ve thought I loved since childhood... just to come to Mardi Gras and learn to live?” she asked passionately. “What then?”

“Does the boy love you?”

“He thinks he does. He... he doesn’t know any more about love than I do.” Barbara’s voice was husky.

Frank did not answer her for a long time. He stared over her head unseeingly. He was more profoundly moved than he cared to admit.

“How do I come in?” he questioned slowly.

“You... you’re a part of Mardi Gras,” Barbara told him vibrantly. “Don’t you see? I have these two days that I’ve snatched from my life. I’ve given up everything I thought was solid and worth while for the sake of these two days. I don’t want to think I’ve traded my birthright for a mess of pottage. I’ve made a terrible mistake if Mardi Gras doesn’t give me back more than I’ve lost.”

“I see what you mean,” he admitted uncomfortably. “But how do we start?”

“Don’t you know?” Barbara stared at him wide-eyed.

“I admit that I don’t,” he said helplessly. “Shall I make love to you?”

“Not unless you want to,” she flashed.

“There you are,” he groaned. “You see the impasse. I don’t want to if you don’t want me to. It’s all mixed up.”

“Not half as mixed up as I am,” Barbara sighed.

She relaxed against him. He leaned down to let his lips rest upon her hair. “I could teach you passion,” he whispered.

“Would that help?” She moved restlessly against his body.

“Passion is a beginning... a motive,” he said slowly. “From that you can go on to love... to life. You can grasp neither fully until you know passion.”

“I don’t think that I could feel passion unless I were in love,” Barbara protested.

“That’s a great mistake. Perhaps the most common mistake of humankind. That’s one of the first lessons you should learn... that the two must never be mixed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will understand,” he told her grimly. “Love involves mental emotion. It warps human relationships and twists life into a Gordian knot that can only be cut through with a great deal of suffering.”

“And passion?” she asked.

“Passion is wholly physical. It doesn’t rise to the heights love sometimes achieves; neither does it carry one down to the nether side of hell as love so often does.”

“And... you can teach me passion?” Barbara’s voice was strained.

“It’s not a question of teaching. It’s simply a matter of awakening certain cells in your body. A simple and pleasant task.”

“Are you sure... I have those cells within me?” she asked brokenly. “When you kissed me just now... wasn’t that supposed to awaken passion?”

“Superficially,” he told her quietly. “Receiving adequate response, a kiss can be a very potent stimulus to passion.”

“But I felt no response,” she protested.

“You’re repressed,” Frank told her firmly. “You don’t react normally.”

“That’s what I meant,” she said sadly. “That’s why I wonder if... if I’m capable of response.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Frank said quietly.

His left hand reached forward to fumble at her breast. She wore a tight brassiere, and his fingers could find two shapely mounds. He caressed them gently.

“This is an awkward time and place,” he said slowly. “If you’re really bent on being initiated into the mystery of sex... I’ll be very glad to make an appointment.”

His lips were very close to her neck, and Barbara was startled to feel his hot breath quicken. The fingers of his hand were clutching, and his body tensed.

A strange emotion answered from her own body. Her pulse quickened, and little fingers of flame seemed to drag downward from her breasts. She felt an uncomfortable desire to thrust herself out on the seat. Her clothes constricted her. She remembered how her instinct had told her to press Robert’s lips down to her breast.

Now she toyed with the wish that Frank might follow the same course. She was frightened by the emotion this desire evoked.

She drew away from him nervously and spoke in a husky tone:

“I... I want to make the appointment too.”

His arm tightened about her crushingly. She let her body go limp in his arms. He was kissing her brow, her eyes... her lips! Her hand slipped about the back of his head and the fingers twined themselves in his hair.

Her lips were parted and she pulled at his head fiercely, crushing his face upon her own, her tongue flickering out to meet his.

Then the spell was broken.

Laughing voices greeted them from near at hand. Ethel and Joe had returned from their amorous interlude.

Barbara slipped down into the seat and stared out across the water. Her breath came pantingly and it seemed that her heart must leap from her body. There was a strange buzzing in her ears which reduced the words of the others to a vague murmur.

She wanted, only, to be alone for an opportunity to examine this surging force which had been unloosed within her body.

Frank drove the car homeward in silence.

He helped her alight when they reached the Brinkley home, and Barbara was surprised to find that her legs would sustain her weight. He bent to kiss her, but she slipped away from him.

“Please,” she murmured, “not yet.”

Joe and Ethel were interlocked in a straining embrace which magnificently disregarded the other couple.

Barbara turned away and waited impatiently for Ethel to join her. She wanted the security of her bedroom... the only place of safety in a chaotic world.

Chapter Five

Barbara awoke with a start the following morning; to find the sun shining full in her face through an open window. She stared about the strange room blankly for a moment. Then she stretched and smiled lazily as she recalled all that had happened.

The door of her room opened and Ethel slipped in quietly. She wore white silk pajamas and a flowered Chinese robe. She smiled broadly when she saw Barbara was awake.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. She slithered across the room and stood by the side of the bed. “Move over,” she commanded. “I want to talk to you.”

Barbara flushed as she moved over and threw the cover back for Ethel to get in bed with her. She was conscious of the comparison between her worn voile nightie and the richness of Ethel’s pajamas.

But Ethel didn’t seem to notice. “Oh! This certainly is a hot place that you vacated,” she exclaimed as she snuggled down beside her. “You must be burning up.”

“Perhaps I am,” Barbara answered with” a slow smile.

“What was the matter with Frank? Couldn’t he do anything about it?”

“I think he’s the cause of it,” Barbara murmured.

“Well, tell me about it,” Ethel insisted. “You wouldn’t say a word last night. Acted as if you were in a trance or something. Tell me what happened? Didn’t you like Frank?”

“I liked him very much,” Barbara assured her. “Too much for my peace of mind.”

“He is a swell fellow. But I can’t see him sending you off to bed in such a state. He must be losing his grip.”

“Ethel!” Barbara looked at her with a blush.

“Gee, you look sweet when you blush,” Ethel murmured. She snuggled down farther in the covers, her cheek resting against Barbara’s bare arm. “I won’t watch you blush,” she said. “Go on and spill the dirt.”