"
"But why did I swipe it?"
"I'm just coming to that," he said, sternly.
"Oh, please, sir, I'm awful sorry I interrupted."
"It was like this: You wanted to come over here and study
medicine so's you could cure your father."
"But please, sir," said the girl, with immense gravity, "mayn't
I let him die, and not find out what's ailing him, so I can
marry the _maire?_"
"Nope," firmly, "you got to--Say, _gee!_ I didn't expect to
tell you all this make-b'lieve.... I'm afraid you'll think
it's awful fresh of me."
"Oh, I loved it--really I did--because you liked to make it up
about poor Istra. (My name is Istra Nash.) I'm sorry to say I'm
not reahlly"--her two "reallys" were quite different--"a countess,
you know. Tell me--you live in this same house, don't you?
Please tell me that you're not an interesting Person. Please!"
"I--gee! I guess I don't quite get you."
"Why, stupid, an Interesting Person is a writer or an artist or
an editor or a girl who's been in Holloway Jail or Canongate for
suffraging, or any one else who depends on an accident to be
tolerable.
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