At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. 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 for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours. You will never be able to draw.
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