After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. “I refuse. 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. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader.
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