She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. 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. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. She was the first to recover herself.
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