There's a
method in my madness. I'll find him sooner or later, and then you'll be
glad I waited."
"Him? what do you mean?"
"Why, _him_, of course. The ideal young man. That's who--or is it
whom?--I'm waiting for. Bailey, shall I tell you something? You're so
scarlet already--poor boy, you ought not to rush around in this hot
weather--that it won't make you blush. It's this. I'm ambitious. I mean
to marry the finest man in the world and have the greatest little old
baby you ever dreamed of. By the way, now I remember, I told Clarence
that."
Bailey uttered a strangled exclamation.
"It _has_ made you blush! You turned purple. Well, now you know. I
mean my baby to be the most splendid baby that was ever born. He's
going to be strong and straight and clever and handsome, and--oh,
everything else you can think of. That's why I'm waiting for the ideal
young man. If I don't find him I shall die an old maid. But I shall
find him. We may pass each other on Fifth Avenue. We may sit next each
other at a theatre. Wherever it is, I shall just reach right out and
grab him and whisk him away. And if he's married already, he'll have to
get a divorce. And I shan't care who he is. He may be any one. I don't
mind if he's a ribbon clerk or a prize-fighter or a policeman or a
cab-driver, so long as he's the right man.
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