“There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. Mr. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. . She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. .
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