PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
"No, write to my home. But three days"
"I want them," she said quietly. "Three days aren't so many, are they, out of a lifetime?"
"But you're not going to change your mind, Peggy? No, I can't do that! I can't agree to it! Let me see you for a moment every day, dear, just for a moment. I—I'm afraid of those three days."
"And yet you are sure I really do—care for you! If I do, will three days alter it?"
"Not your caring, but" He was silent.
"You said you'd wait for me until I was ready," she said gently. "Do you want me—before I want to come?"
"I want you every minute," he muttered. "Each day is going to be a month, Peggy! If I only knew that, at the end, you'd be the same"
"If I only knew it I'd not ask for them."
"Well, all right," he agreed finally. "You'll write to me Saturday? You won't forget? You won't think that—perhaps it doesn't matter?"
"I'll write," she promised gravely.
And afterwards, speeding downtown through the long streets, he regretted his complaisance and would have her let him speak to her by telephone each day. But she refused, and in the end he
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