” He called for a hansom. “But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. “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 somehow understood. But this I cannot do.
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