” Miss Stanley reflected as Ann Veronica went toward the house. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. “It was very tiring. He laughed to hide his uneasiness. But … he must want to live in order that the inclination to repeat this incident may not recur. 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. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper.
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