Never mind. 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. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. “I wrote it for you. . The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him.
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