“He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. " "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. I don’t love you. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. 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. "Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you.
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