Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. Take my advice. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. “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. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go.
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