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. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. There it is. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both.
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