” John took his hand away. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. He screamed in pain, doubling over with a howl as she stumbled out of the bed. “I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. “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. “If only her sister is half as pretty, no wonder that she has set the Parisians talking.
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