“Quite on my own,” she said. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. 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. Again he rushed. “Let’s go home. I think not. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them.
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