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. I had to go at a moment’s notice. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’ ‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily.
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