There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. To the duckling, peas, and other delicacies, intended for Mr. “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. They did not spend most days together. We’ll find a way to survive.
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