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. Of his own certain knowledge he could tell them that. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping.
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