Something softened in Melusine’s chest. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. “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. You sent back my Christmas checks. I may want you. "You've won your wager.
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