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. ‘No! Let me alone!’ ‘It is not safe!’ ‘That is entirely my affair, and not your affair in the least,’ she told him haughtily. “A number of beautiful things are not intense. I’d need to be out of my senses. " "And what should a young man like this one have to forget?" Prudence demanded to know. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard.
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