I put my foot down like—like adamant. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Sheppard. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner.
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