“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. No, never mind about thanking me. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. ” His rhythm slowed to a grind. 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.
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