“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. The wings stopped. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face.
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