“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. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark.
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