“MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. Never since I was a girl have I seen your father so moved. 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. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her.
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