" "He has done too much already," answered the widow. “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. Up to dinner yesterday I did not expect to come to Canton. If not, keep up your spirits. . . She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. ‘Come, cry a truce. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver.
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