“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. Charley Pevenill was our host. This was his humiliation as well as hers. “Michelle, the only reason I ever started to behave or dress differently was to please that boy. I heard everywhere of his enormous riches and his generosity. It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice. He tells me that you will not even see him. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full.
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