“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. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. “Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right.
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