As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. I could not dream of loving you. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything.
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