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Bangs, John Kendrick, 1862-1922

"A Rebellious Heroine"

Miss
Andrews walked through the office to the dining-room as I registered,
and as I turned to gaze upon her as she passed majestically on, it
flashed across my mind that it would be far better to appear before
her as a fellow-guest, and find out what I wanted and tell her why I
had come in that guise, rather than introduce myself as one of those
young men who earn their daily bread by poking their noses into other
people's business.
Had this course been based upon any thing more solid than a pure bit
of imagination, I should have found it difficult to accommodate
myself so easily to circumstances. If it had been Harley instead of
myself, it would have been impossible, for Harley would never have
stooped to provide himself with a trunk containing fresh linen and
evening-dress clothes and patent-leather pumps by a stroke of his
pen. This I did, however, and that evening, having created another
guest, who knew me of old and who also was acquainted with Miss
Andrews, just as I had created my excellent wardrobe, I was
presented.


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