A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. “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 wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade.
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