"Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. “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. ’ Then all at once remembrance made her smile. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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