It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. 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. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. The boy’s besotted. But Michelle’s heart seemed to grow fonder to the subject proportionally to Lucy’s avoidance of it.
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