He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. 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. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. . . Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. The age of this individual could not be more than twenty-one; his figure was tall, robust, and gracefully proportioned; and his clear gray eye and open countenance bespoke a frank, generous, and resolute nature.
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