The impassivity of her features changed at last. “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. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. ” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked.
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