" Davies reluctantly complied. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. Teddy was the hatless young man who had turned Ann Veronica aside from the Avenue two days before. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. 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. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Apart from everything else, this meeting of ours is a breach of a good rule. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle.
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