" "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. " "Surest thing you know. " "Impossible!" cried Jonathan. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. It is not at all comme il faut. A remittance man. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases. A fortnight passed, then a month.
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