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. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked. A lucky escape. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. The young lady saw the change, and almost snorted. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. It was perfectly legitimate. “I don’t understand. Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile.
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