PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
"Are you? What sort?"
"Matrimonial."
"Still got that obsession, Peter? Found the happy partner of your woes yet?"
"I'm telling you, ain't I?" growled Peter. "She can't any more than throw me down, eh?"
"She might jump on you afterwards," replied Gordon. "They sometimes do. May I ask who 'she' is?"
"I've told you." Peter reddened. "It—it's her."
"Take your time," said Gordon patiently. "No hurry. There, now, try again, old man."
"Go to the devil! It's Leona. I told you so."
Gordon stared. Then he whistled. Then he grinned.
"You're not fooling, Pete?"
"Of course I'm not," Peter growled. "Why not, eh? Tell me why not? Isn't she a fine girl?"
"Yes, she is," replied Gordon sincerely. "She hates me like poison, but"
Peter shook his head. "No, she don't."
"Don't what?"
"Hate you. She only thinks she does."
"Well, it's a damned good imitation!"
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