“But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. There was a flash and a loud report. “He’s got almost to like it. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. Nothing ensued. “Well,” said Capes, at length, “we’ve to go down, Ann Veronica. “Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly.
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