” “I’ll wait, then. Her moods were many and always striking. The one nearest to her, which must lead to the library. ” Then she fell to thinking about her aunt. . And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. 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. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun.
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