WHERE OUR CLUB MET
"Take care of my sore spot!" says Evelyn. "I can answer that question of yours now—'When?'"
"Hurry!" says Dave.
"In a few days. Just as soon as I—can stand on my feet. I won't be married in bed."
"Thank you," says Dave, solemn.
"You look scared," laughs Evelyn.
"Yes," says Dave then, "I'm scared—scared half to death! Look at Evelyn, Jon! How pale! Is she dying?"
"I have been looking," says Jon, more scared than Dave. "Don't you think the best thing—the one thing—we can ask Evelyn is to tell us, honestly, whether or not she is seriously ill, and whether she is sure she will get well?"
"Yes," says Dave. "For God's sake, Evelyn, tell us that—and we'll be satisfied."
"Did you ever see me happier?" asks Evelyn.
"No!" says Jon and Dave at once.
"Are people happy who think they are sick
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