“Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly. Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. “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. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. That is my way, my dear.
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