’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. Like a petulant child he snapped. 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. “You have the temperament,” he said. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. “She can’t. ” “Two years ago,” she answered. ’ A grimace crossed her face.
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