" CHAPTER V. 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. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. ’ He thought a wary look came into her face, but it was difficult to be sure.
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