“You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. Kneebone.
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