I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. 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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