‘Tell me, my boy. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. 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.
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