He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. “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.
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