She was not at home--had, in fact, departed two days
previously for the White Mountains. Fortunately, however, the butler
knew her address, and, without bothering about trains, luggage, or
aught else, in one brief paragraph I landed myself at the Profile
House, where she was spending a week with Mr. and Mrs. Rushton of
Brooklyn. This change of location caused me to modify my first idea,
to its advantage. I saw, when I thought the matter over, that, on
the whole, the interview, as an interview for a newspaper syndicate,
was likely to be nipped in the bud, since the moment I declared
myself a reporter for a set of newspapers, and stated the object of
my call, she would probably dismiss me with the statement that she
was not a professional heroine, that her views were of no interest to
the public, and that, not having the pleasure of my acquaintance, she
must beg to be excused. I wonder I didn't think of this at the
outset. I surely knew Harley's heroine well enough to have foreseen
this possibility. I realized it, however, the moment I dropped
myself into the great homelike office of the Profile House.
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