“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 realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. I made it a point to bring beachcombers to the house to fill her with horror of mankind. See paragraph 1. I sent my check for ten thousand; and it has cost me six thousand to find you.
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