But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. At length, at the end of a passage, next to the cell where Mrs. 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 fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation.
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