It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. The smile had become a laugh. Her skin prickled. "Will he live?" asked Ruth. Her pulses began to race. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. “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. He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door.
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