“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. 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. You have betrayed me. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it.
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