She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. 1. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. 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. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. It’s just upon my lunch-time.
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