“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. Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook to deliver,—one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at Manchester, the other to Mr. Knew something was up. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt.
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