‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. “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. You understand me, Charcoal. Taking the light, they then proceeded along the passage.
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