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“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. I want to hear how she does it. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and shut them both into privacy. She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. She answered him almost coldly.
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