Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. 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. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. “Yes, I have heard of him, and I know him by sight,” he admitted. “Never. ‘I’ll wager that militiaman never rode the animal, then. Thinks they’re the same as soldiers.
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