I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. \" He said to her after he bought his own ticket. 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.
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