I tell you that I love you, Anna, and I believe that you love me. ‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story. Melusine tried to squash down, still trying to maintain her guard. For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour. 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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