“Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. " Internally, it was divided by two long galleries, one over the other. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. "Much better," said Mrs. 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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