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. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. And the Duke, too—I heard him say that a married secretary would be worse than useless to him. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her.
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