One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. “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. "Do you mean to say that if I support your kid, I shan't bring him up how I please—eh?" "Don't question me, but leave me," replied the widow wildly; "you had better.
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