He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. Mr. ” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. . Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion.
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