” Her breath left her for a moment. 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. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews.
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