"Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. pgdp. It was not for a week or a month. Water I need. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek.
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