Page:Glitter (1926).pdf/248

 and it would carry all right. . . . Hate that type of fellow. . . . What's that on her stocking, oil or a birthmark? . . . Wonder where he got that suit. Not bad. . . . There's what's-his-name. Best punter Princeton ever had. Selling insurance now, but still walks as though he heard cheering. . . . Say, where the hell's Bill, anyway?"

He glanced up at the clock again, and was on the point of rising to leave when a voice at his ear said blithely, "You look nice, I guess I'll sit by you!"

He turned his head—

"Peg!"

"Guilty."

They shook hands with great gusto. She was, Jock perceived, the same Peg. Same laughing eyes, same infectious grin, same impudent, pert pug nose. . . . The mere sight of that nose made him feel suddenly gleeful. "It's still there!" he exclaimed, involuntarily and quite inanely.

"What's still there?"

"Your nose"

This struck them both as excruciatingly funny, and they rocked with muffled mirth, pressing their mouths tight shut and puffing out their cheeks. "You bet it's there!" Peg said, when the paroxysm had abated a little. "That's my trade-mark. Peg, Limited. The Nose With a Smile. Ask the Man Who Owns One—say, you knew I was married, didn't you? Of course you did, you were the burn who wouldn't come up to Boston for my wedding but sent me a pretty pickle dish or something. One of these days I'll write and thank you, but until then let's let it go because I'm not at all sure it was a pickle dish—sorry, but you know how weddings are—we drew five hundred and three presents, five hundred of them pickle dishes, so that I'm