"Well," she said, as they reached the hotel portal, "what is your advice?" "Would you follow it?" "Probably not. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. ” He spoke a little nervously. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. 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. Afterward goes on to Oxford.
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