“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. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. Drink for him had a queer phase. I wasn't taught that; I simply fell into it from contact. “What is going on between you two?” Lucy asked. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror.
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