“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. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy city, and become degenerates. Leonardo would not have married her. It was not your fault you failed. Mademoiselle has had no harm of me,’ Gerald said soothingly and bowed.
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