“I guess you’ll have to forget about it, child, an’ be ‘Happy in Spite’,” said Lafe, with a sigh.
The next day Peggy took Lafe into her confidence.
“I think it could be did,” she ended, looking at her husband.
“Mebbe,” said Mr. Grandoken thoughtfully.
“I’ll do it,” snapped Peg, “but I hate ’er, an’ you can bang me if that ain’t a fact, but—but I’ll go, I said.”
About ten o’clock Peggy dressed and went out.
Theodore King was in his office, trying to keep his mind on a line of figures. Of late work palled on him. He sighed and leaned back thoughtfully, striking and touching a match to his cigar. Memories of blue-eyed Jinnie enveloped him in a mental maze. She stood radiant and beckoning, her exquisite face smiling into his at every turn.
He realized now how much he desired Jinnie Grandoken—and were she with him at that moment, life could offer him nothing half so sweet.
“I want her always,” he said grimly, aloud to himself.
A boy’s head appeared at the door.