PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
he surmised rather than discerned the little pucker on her brow. "May I?"
"Yes," he muttered.
"I've seen a good deal of—what we call life, Mr. Ames, and so I'm not—exactly ignorant. Perhaps I oughtn't to say these things to you. I suppose I couldn't if it were light. But it's dark, and I—somehow, in spite of the fact that I've been a little afraid of you sometimes, I—I think you're nice, if you know what I mean by that." She seemed to be groping for her words there beside him. He nodded. She must have seen it, for she went on with more confidence. "You say you like me—no, love me. You see, I'm being quite frank. Perhaps you do. Of course, I don't pretend to know much about love. I've seen a good many kinds, but it has never—never touched me. So since there are so many kinds of love—or, because this love has so many different aspects—I'm ready to believe that you do love me. And I think I care for you. Perhaps not—not in quite the same way. I don't know. It is all quite new and different and—and a little bit scary. But I think I do care some. And perhaps if—if this sort of thing went on; if we saw each other, I
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