The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. “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. Will you tell her that?" "I will," replied Thames, earnestly. " "Murder him!" cried Trenchard shuddering. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors.
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