“And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. 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. He went more easily this time.
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