And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. 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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