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. “Oh good. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. I thought Bess would have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed. Oh! my dear, dear son, be warned in time.
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