PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
again I'll be doing what is very unwise, very wrong. What I don't know is—what you'll do or what I'll do."
"Oh, the whole thing's dead wrong!" he exclaimed passionately. "It's all a wretched muddle. I love you, Peggy, as I've never loved another woman, as I never shall love another woman. I wish to God I were as poor as a church mouse!"
The waiter cleared the cloth for the bowls and Gordon watched him miserably. When he was gone,
"You are right," he said with a sigh. "I shan't run away. I couldn't forget you; I don't want to. No, I'm going to stay, Peggy. I—" He sought her eyes—"I am giving you fair warning, Peggy-in-the-Rain."
She smiled sadly as she lifted her gloves. "I gave myself warning that day in Aiken," she replied, "but I didn't heed it."
"Then you do care, dear?" he whispered caressingly.
She shook her head as she pulled on a glove. "I don't know. That is really true; I don't know. I've tried not to care. I don't want to care." Her fingers fumbled at their task and
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