‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will. 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. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. "I imagine I must have a hundred rolls—all the old fellows.
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