They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. “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 face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. “We parted— that night the best of friends. She refrained. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps.
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