” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. " Jonathan gave utterance to a torrent of imprecations. “Can you come out tonight?” “Um, sure, I guess. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “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. You can’t! I tell you frankly you may break off your engagement to me—I shall hold myself still engaged to you, yours just the same. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree.
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