Q. Wood in the deepest mourning. ‘It is not easy. Hill,” she said graciously. It was perfectly legitimate. Wood could stand it no longer. 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'll be your turn to save mine next. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. .
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