For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject. 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. "Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. ” “He certainly did not follow you out,” Brendon answered.
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