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. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “Really, daddy, I am sorry for all I have done to put you out. “The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself—get hold of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica’s soul. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her.
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