‘Obstinate fool!’ She saw Gosse raise a hand, and dug into her nun’s habit for the knife she had not thought to need. “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. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains.
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