His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. He said nothing. We WERE thieves. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. “My word holds,” she said. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. So it was with Gosse, who had wanted to marry her.
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