PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
denly. "Look here," he demanded, his voice dropping, "is there any one else, Peggy?"
"Any one else?" she repeated lightly.
"Yes, any one else. Is there?"
"No," she answered soberly, "there is no one else. And—there is no one."
He took his hand from the wheel and placed it over hers, folded in her lap under the cloak. "Are you certain, Peggy?"
She nodded slowly. "I don't pretend to not understand you," she replied gravely. "I like you. I'm here now because I like you. But—if that's not enough you must take me home again, or, at least, not try to see me again."
"It is not enough, and you know it, Peggy," he replied hotly. "And you knew it when you came this evening. I thought you were beyond quibbling!"
There was a moment's silence. Then, "No woman is beyond what you call quibbling, Mr. Ames," she said. "But if I'm to be quite honest, why, yes, I did know. And I wonder—why I came!"
"Wasn't it because—you cared—a little, Peggy?" he whispered.
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