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160

in earnest now. Yesterday he spoke of ideals.

"I always thought I should like to meet my ideal," he said, "but I find I was mistaken. There are so many doubts that go with the discovery. And that ideal must have ideals oh so high that it frightens me."

"I always thought ideals were so high that you could never find them," I said. Mine are I know. Why my ideals don't exist, they could not" and I looked off in the distance as if trying in my minds eye to see the ideal personified.
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He jumpted [sic] at what I said:

"There that is just what I said," he cried, "a woman's ideals are very much higher than a mans."

"I don't see why they should be and I have always thought that somehow a man was more imaginative that women were more practical and therefore had fewer ideals."

"No. A good woman is a thousand times better than a good man, but a bad woman is infinitely worse than a bad man."

"Yes I suppose so," I said thoughfully, "but that is