It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. ‘I don’t know that I dare. But tell her this, too. Happy Birthday, then. “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. "To go a little further. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated.
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