" "That's my own concern," rejoined Sheppard. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. . “You’re. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. “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.
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