She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. “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. I don’t defend it. “I’m still new to them. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. He turned back at once. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house. “I am off to-night,” he said.
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