PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
wanted your friendship. I don't. I want—more than that, Peggy. And—this isn't good-by." He released her hand.
"It is good-by," she said desperately. "I shall never see you again! Please understand that! Never!"
Her eyes met his, frightened and angry. He smiled back into them. "That's not with you," he answered calmly. "It rests with the gods, perhaps with Jupiter Pluvius. I think we shall meet again. I don't even know your name, nor ask it, so confident am I."
"You've made me hate you," she cried defiantly. "I want never to see you!"
"Then pray to Jupiter, Peggy-in-the-Rain!"
He watched her hurry over the crossing, watched her until she was lost in the throng almost a block away. The rain had ceased and westward a faint yellow glare told of sunset. Up and down the Avenue the lights shone steely blue. Gordon sighed, frowned and went back to his car. With the motor started he paused to light a cigarette and smiled to find his fingers trembling.
