They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said. ‘But that will do for a start. He is already married. And you’re as clean as fire. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. 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. E. Maggot.
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