You are afraid of Edith, but can't you be like the Indian?
He--" "That's all very nice," mourned Brock, "but he could cover his confusion with war paint.

Don't forget that, my dear.

Think of the difference in our disguises! War paint in daubs versus spats and an eyeglass.

Besides, he didn't have to talk West End English.

And, moreover, he lived in a wigwam, and didn't have to explain a sky bedroom to strangers who happened along." "That is a bit awkward," she confessed thoughtfully.