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. And then—this sudden thrust. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. . “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. You do not wish to marry me at all, that is seen. I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, by the by. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. It was a reputation by no means deserved. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. In the first place, Mrs.
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