They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. Michelle looked her up and down, liking the results of her efforts. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. 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. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. "I sha'n't offer any of these to you two," he said; "but I know you won't mind me having an imitation king's peg. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively.
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