“How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. “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. Very likely by this time the whole truth is known. "You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. ‘I am done, Gérard.
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