PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
very healthy downpour. Meaning to arise early, he overslept and reached the dining-room at half-past nine. The mail was heaped beside his plate. His heart, none too steady at best to-day, seemed to turn completely over as he sank into his chair under the sympathetic and comprehending eyes of Hurd. He pushed the grapefruit away and took up the Herald.
"Coffee, Hurd," he said. "Nothing else, please."
"The kidneys are very nice, sir," ventured Hurd.
"Nothing else, Hurd," responded Gordon in a tone that was final. Hurd poured the coffee gravely. Then he cunningly moved the toast-rack nearer.
"You may go," muttered Gordon, glancing unseeingly at the first page of the paper. Hurd retired noiselessly. Gordon gulped half the coffee, seized the letters and went to the window. There, with hands that trembled, he went over them in feverish hurry. Circulars, bills, announcements, broker's communications fell unheeded to the carpet. He had never seen Peggy's handwriting, and his first draw was a blank, an invitation to dinner.
177
