I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. 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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