1. ’ ‘Had a certificate for it,’ argued Roding. . “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. And the less “anything” happened the better. Or I should have made love to you long ago. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult.
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