But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. His eyes were red. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. “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. ’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly. " "I'm convinced of it," replied Shotbolt; "and it was on that very account I came here.
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