\" Lucy winced. ‘I told you I could handle her. 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. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. And at the sight something leaped within her.
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