“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. “No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself.
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