A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. “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 entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. It did not seem quite fair. .
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