“Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. Mr. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. “I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. “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.
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