"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. “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. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. Ludicrously loud sounds streamed from the array of speakers. I didn't mean it. THAMES DARRELL.
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