" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. There is the key. 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. S. Jonathan completely baffles and derides the ends of justice.
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