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 replied. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. Because their human lives were so short, the happily married had no time to get sick of one another. It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect. Here he was hotly pursued. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited.
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