"I can't say I do," replied Wood. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. 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. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it.
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