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When I was younger, I was very sick with a deadly flu. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. 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. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife.
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