I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. “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. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. ‘More nor that.
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