“I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. “We were afraid that you had deserted us for good, Mr.
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