human
I tell you, Mildred, he said enthusiastically,
gpt
What a pity that I am not a reporter, she said as they left the tent.
human
You could be worked into a taking newspaper article, Jack. A young scion of one of Chicago’s well-known families is maturing a plan to abduct the chief of the tribe of Nubians in Cairo Street. It is feared there will be an uprising, and so forth, and so forth.
gpt
A feminine chief? I don’t blame them.
human
No, sir. Your superb bronze woman, your artist’s model, is Mohammed Ali, the chief of the Nubians.
gpt
You expect me to believe that?
human
Not if you wish to go back and inquire. It is true, though. Mohammed is a friend of mine. He was good enough, when Clover and I looked into his hut, to show us how he polishes those perfect teeth of his with a little stick. Did you ever see anything so shining? You can buy his photograph, if you like, at one of these booths, and keep it as a memento of Mr. Van Tassel’s
gpt
Look ou-at. Look ou-at for Mary Anderson,
human
You wouldn’t run over me, would you, Toby?