All through the love music of the second act, until the hunting horns of Mark break in upon the dream, Ann Veronica’s consciousness was flooded with the perception of a man close beside her, preparing some new thing to say to her, preparing, perhaps, to touch her, stretching hungry invisible tentacles about her. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction.
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