Slowly and reluctantly she came to realize that Vivie Warren was what is called an “ideal. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though.
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