PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
been pointed out to me more than once, Mr. Ames."
"Where? In New York?"
She nodded.
"Then you live there?"
"At present."
"And your name?" he asked boldly.
She shook her head again.
"It looks like a challenge," he said with a laugh and a frown. "If it is"
"It isn't, really. I'm not trying to make a mystery of myself. I'm very grateful to you for—for being so nice to me, but—there isn't any more, Mr. Ames."
"You mean you don't want to know me," he said a trifle stiffly.
"I mean—" She paused and frowned at the horse's restive head. Then, turning to him gravely, "I mean," she went on, "that I am not what you think I am. This is a borrowed horse and a borrowed habit. I am a daw in peacock's feathers. I am not in your set, Mr. Ames, and our paths are not likely to cross again."
"That doesn't matter," he said sturdily. "I want to know you."
15
