Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. “I’m fine,” she said softly. "Where?" she cried. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. ’ The smile vanished. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked.
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