Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. 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. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities.
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