PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
"Yes, dark or fair, Mr. Ames?" added the widow.
"Short or tall, old man?"
"Kind or unkind, O Disconsolate Lover?"
"Er—she's rather tall and short, with a lot of light black hair. And she's distinctly unkind, since she's evidently not here."
"She's foxy," declared Pete. "That's all, old man. They all are."
"Brute!" said the widow. "Ask Mr. Ames to drive out to the Farm with us this afternoon, Peter."
Gordon gently disengaged his imprisoned ankle and shook his head. "Don't do it, Pete," he warned regretfully. "I'd have to refuse you, and that would pain me deeply."
The Golden Widow pouted. "I believe the man's absolutely in love! Think of it! Gordon Ames in love!"
"I wondered if you'd never guess my secret," Gordon sighed.
The widow threatened him with the formidable sunshade and he retreated in terror. He doubled back and forth through and about the clubhouse without success. Then, as it was still early, he
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