For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. “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 reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. . ‘Let her go. ” “Do you drink blood?” He stood up. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. Here we go, thought Gerald.
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