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. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. Gerald saw her extract something and leapt aside, calling a warning to Hilary. She had never let off a pistol in her life.
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