You must be misinformed, Mr. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. One is always familiar with the business of one’s neighbours. 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. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one.
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