“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. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. Anna stepped back at once with a little gasp of relief.
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