" "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. “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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