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--the hairy Hermit of Baldpate, like a figure out of some old print, his market basket on his arm again, his coat buttoned to the chin. "Well, everything's shipshape in the kitchen," announced the hermit cheerfully. "I couldn't go without seeing to that. I wish you the best of luck, gentlemen--and good-by." "Good-by?" cried the professor. "By the gods, he's leaving us," almost wept Mr. Bland. "It can't be," said Mr. Magee. "It has to be," said the Hermit of Baldpate, solemnly shaking his head. "I'd like to stay with you, and I would of, if they hadn't come. But here they are--and when women come in the door, I fly out of the window, as the saying is." "But, Peters," pleaded Magee, "you're not going to leave us in the hole like this?" "Sorry," replied Peters, "I can please men, but I can't please women. I tried to please one once--but let the dead past bury its dead. I live on Baldpate in a shack to escape the sex, and it wouldn't be consistent for me to stay here now. I got to go. I hate to, like a dog, but I got to." "Peters," said Mr. Magee, "I'm surprised. After giving your word to stay! And who knows--you may be able to gather valuable data for your book. Stick around. These women won't bother you. I'll make them promise never to ask about the love-affair you didn't have--never even to come near you. And we'll pay you beyond the dreams of avarice of a Broadway chef. Won't we, gentlemen?" The others nodded. Mr. Peters visibly weakened. "Well--" he began. "I--" His eyes were on the stair. Mr. Magee also looked in that direction and saw the girl of the station smiling down. She no longer wore coat and hat, and the absence of the latter revealed a glory of golden hair that became instantly a rival to the sunshine in that drear bare room. "No, Peters," she said, "you mustn't go. We couldn't permit it. Mamma and I will go." She continued to smile at the obviously dazzled Peters. Suddenly he spoke in a determined tone: "No--don't do that. I'll stay." Then he turned to Magee, and continued for that gentleman's ear alone: "Dog-gone it, we're all alike. We resolve and resolve, and then one of them looks at us, and it's all forgot. I had a friend who advertised for a wife, leastways, he was a friend until he advertised. He got ninety-two replies, seventy of 'em from married men advising against the step. 'I'm cured,' he says to me. 'Not for me.' Did he keep his word? No. A week after he married a w
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