Her faculties seemed for a moment numbed. ‘It must seem strange to you at first. Stanley. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. “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.
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