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. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. They went to the Zoological Gardens together one Saturday to see for themselves a point of morphological interest about the toucan’s bill—that friendly and entertaining bird—and they spent the rest of the afternoon walking about and elaborating in general terms this theme and the superiority of intellectual fellowship to all merely passionate relationships. “What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. " CHAPTER XIV.
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