“Please call me Carol. We'll see whether he'll get rid of his new bonds?" he added with a brutal laugh, which was echoed by the bystanders. 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. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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