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. It’s—it’s a serious prohibition. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. She removed the belt and drew down his zipper.
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