. 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. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. " He bent his head to his knees. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears.
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