” He stroked her hand gently. "On the way to the cutters," said Ah Cum. 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. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “Let’s go. Nice, of course. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated.
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