“I want to make you happy, Lucy. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. “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. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs.
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