" "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. 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. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. " "Blueskin's only chance would be to carry his threat into effect," pursued the woollen-draper.
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