You have grown into my life. 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. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon.
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