“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. "But trifle with mo no longer. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. But tell her this, too.
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