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” Lucy said, watching people mechanically pump quarters into the till. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. 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. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity.
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