“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. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. That is my way, my dear. " An awful silence prevailed throughout the court. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. Wood trembled.
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