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. “Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?” with a low bow. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. ‘That is imbecile. ” He paused with a sense of ineptitude.
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