“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. “Are you looking for Mike? He’s working. I want to fill it with fine and precious things. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. ’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly.
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