“Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. But she was not there. She despises one-piece swimsuits, she calls them ‘old hag bathing dresses’ no matter how low-cut they are. ’ ‘Yes, that is reasonable,’ agreed Melusine, nodding. “I’ve broken off my engagement,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, and found her heart thumping in her neck. 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 said mournfully.
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