“You pushed the wheel from my hand. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. 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. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. There was no need to be afraid for me. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather—to deal frankly with you,—he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence.
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