It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. ” He stood quite silent for a moment, his eyes fixed upon her face. Somehow. Drink the toast, Jack. “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. "Where?" she cried. We men are like children.
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