She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. “Shhh. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. I heard from David about you only this morning. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. 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. Few men could have done as much.
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