"Yes," he said, thoughtfully. "But I shall not publish it. If it
was all so distasteful to her as you say, I'd rather destroy it."
"Don't do that," I said. "Change the heroine's name, and nobody but
ourselves will ever be the wiser."
"I never thought of that," said he.
"That's because you've no imagination," I retorted.
Stuart smiled. "It's a good idea, and I'll do it; it won't be the
truest realism, but I think I am entitled to the leeway on one
lapse," he said.
"You are," I rejoined. "Lapse for the sake of realism. The man who
never lapses is not real. There never was such a man. You might
change that garden-party costume too. If you can't think of a better
combination than that, leave it to me. I'll write to my sister and
ask her to design a decent dress for that occasion."
"Thanks," said Stuart, with a laugh. "I accept your offer; but, I
say, what was the name of the little mountain house where you found
her?"
"I don't know," I replied. "You made such an infernal row battering
down my door that I came away in a hurry and forgot to ask.
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