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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. She spoke slowly. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. E. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared.
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