PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
tinctly impossible to associate her with such things, impossible and horrible! She read the thought and laughed.
"Oh, it isn't all murders, Mr. Ames! There are some very nice assignments sometimes; interviews with interesting persons—or personages; 'swell functions,' as our city editor calls them, when I put on my very best bib and tucker and pretend I'm a guest and make notes in the seclusion of the dressing-room or behind a palm so folks won't know why I am really there. That sounds snobbish, doesn't it? I suppose the real fact is that I am a little ashamed of my profession in spite of my—my pose."
He made no answer. This was not Peggy-in-the-Rain, this very capable, self-possessed young woman beside him. He turned again to observe her with a mingling of surprise and curiosity. Once more she seemed to surmise his thoughts, and smiled.
"You're trying to reconcile me with the girl you met under the magnolia that day, aren't you? A very silly, frightened girl who hung onto your hand like grim death and tried so very, very hard to believe the nice lie you told her about magnolias
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