Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. But he reckoned without his host. 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. . . "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague.
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