human
The Ghost Girl to a typist at Columbia, he suffered another periodical cleaning of his
gpt
and started in on the outline of another novel. That also was an enlarged and amplified rendering of an earlier book, torn to pieces and baked en casserole with an occult sauce, to its enormous and entire benefit. He was not reminded of the fact that the central situation had been used before. He was borrowing from himself, to be sure, and it was quite permissible, but in other circumstances I would have urged him to let his original creation stand. As it was I was glad to see him begin it as soon as
human
The Ghost Girl
gpt
had become relative to both of us. They had not only lost all value but they had become transformed into fetters. To get rid of the encumbrance of
human
and be free to pack a suitcase and go at will, was an intriguing idea to him. In discussing it, and the process of elimination necessary to reach the desired results, we agreed to get rid of all but two articles,--the carved olive-wood table at which he had written most of his books, and the arm-chair in which our little Toto had died. Mr. Saltus did not live to see it, but