PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
She shook her head. "Look at my eyes, Gordon."
"I'm looking," he replied a little unsteadily.
"They're not blue."
He flinched. "But if blue eyes are not for me?" he whispered.
"It would never do, Gordon dear. And yet," she added a trifle wistfully, "had you talked so a year ago—. Heigho, I suppose everything's for the best in this funny, puzzling old world."
He frowned. "Then—it's true, what you said, Leona? You really have—recovered?"
She looked at him straightly. "Quite, Gordon," she answered.
He dropped her hand. She laid it detainingly on his arm as he stepped back.
"Be honest, Gordon. Isn't it better that way?"
"I suppose so," he replied ruefully.
Leona smiled. "That's your silly old masculine vanity talking. But I don't want to hurt your vanity, Gordon, for they say that's a man's tenderest spot. I'll give you a salve for it. I said I had quite recovered. So I have to all practical purposes, but, Gordon dear, a woman never quite
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