"Excuse me, Miss Andrews," I answered, "but I am afraid I don't
understand you."
"I am afraid you don't," she said, the smile leaving her lips. "The
fact that you are here on the errand you have charged yourself with
proves that."
"I am not aware," I said, "that I have come on any particularly
ridiculous errand. May I ask you what you mean by the expression
'most amusing of them all'? Am I one among many, and, if so, one
what among many what?"
"Your errand is a good one," she said, gravely, "and not at all
ridiculous; let me assure you that I appreciate that fact. Your
question I will answer by asking another: Are you here of your own
volition, or has Stuart Harley created you, as he did Messrs.
Osborne, Parker, and the Professor? Are you my new hero, or what?"
The question irritated me. This woman was not content with
interfering seriously with my friend's happiness: she was actually
attributing me to him, casting doubts upon my existence, and placing
me in the same category with herself--a mere book creature.
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