Manning at last broke down by coming directly at her as she talked with the vicar’s aunt about some of the details of the alleged smell of the new church lamps. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. He slid out of her. He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows.
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