” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. “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. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt.
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