Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. 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. ‘Say it. She killed a man who was squatting outside of a freezing brick shanty on the southern edge of Chicago as he waited for his dealer.
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