PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
however, for while he was still waiting an elevator door rolled open and out stepped the Golden Widow, a dazzling apparition of black net and white shoulders and bediamonded hair.
"My dear Mr. Ames! Who'd ever thought of finding you here?"
Gordon bowed over a plump gloved hand.
"I've been wondering why, myself, until this moment. One needn't ask after your health, Fair Lady."
The Widow gave a soft shriek of comic alarm. "Don't tell me I'm stouter than when you saw me last," she begged.
"Your charms have visibly increased, but not in that way, I'm sure," he answered gravely. "Are you staying in Chicago?"
"Oh, dear, no! One never stays in Chicago; one merely passes through. I am a bird of passage, Mr. Ames."
"I should have said a bird of paradise," with a glance at the aigrette in her hair.
"You say such nice things," she sighed. Then, with a frown: "But I ought to be cross with you. You didn't treat me very nicely at Aiken, Mr. Ames."
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