The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. He looked at her, hurt. I'm a slave to my word. Do not remain with me. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. “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. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. ‘I’ve never before made love at pistol point.
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