THE IVORY TOWER
of the happy Latin model; extremely like my own, be so good as to notice for once in your life, and not like the usual Anglo-Saxon fangs. You're simply describing, you know," she added, "about as gorgeous a being as one could wish to see."
"It's not I who am describing him—it's you, love; and ever so delightfully." With which, in consistency with that, he himself put a question. "What does it come to, by the way, in the sense of a moustache? Does he, or doesn't he after all, wear one? It's odd I shouldn't remember, but what does the photograph say?"
"It seems odd indeed I shouldn't—"Cissy had a moment's brooding. She gave herself out as ashamed. "Fancy my not remembering if the photograph is moustachue!"
"It can't be then very," Horton contributed—the point was really so interesting.
"No," Cissy tried to settle, "the photograph can't be so very moustachue."
"His moustaches, I mean, if he wears 'em, can't be so very prodigious; or one could scarcely have helped noticing, could one?"
"Certainly no one can ever have failed to notice yours—and therefore Gray's, if he has any, must indeed be very inferior. And yet he can't be shaved like a sneak-thief—or like all the world here," she developed; "for I won't have him with nothing at all any more than I'll have him with anything prodigious, as you say; which is
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