Earles drew out his cheque book. “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 were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. “You’re so cute. Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. Age is set, impervious to innovations. She dismissed the idea of doing so. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap.
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