PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
Ames was dressed, what he looked like, whether he smoked a cigar or a cigarette—cigarettes always make a hit with the women readers—and what color pajamas he wears. It's the personal note I'm after."
"Evidently," replied Gordon dryly.
"Yes; and if you can tell me whether you're engaged or going to be soon, it'll make a real hit."
"I am not and don't expect to be at present."
"What's the reason?" The reporter pulled a wad of soiled paper from his pocket and fumbled for a pencil. "Don't you believe in marriage?"
Gordon, undecided whether to be amused or annoyed, laughed. "No, you don't!" he said. "I refuse to have my views on matrimony set forth in your paper. I was on the point of going out when you were announced, so I'll have to ask you to put your questions quickly."
"All right. Sorry to keep you, Mr. Ames. I'd have been around before only I got the assignment by phone only ten minutes ago. Our woman reporter had the job, but she funked it."
Gordon's heart jumped. "Woman reporter? Really? I fancy I've had a narrow escape."
The other grinned. "Believe me, you have, Mr.
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