He was her only brother, and she his favourite sister. 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. Advancing towards him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned. “Thank God,” he exclaimed. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. I want to make you feel that here is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow. Even the love of a mother does not sway him.
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