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. ‘You will arrest me? For—for—’ ‘Trespass, theft and spying,’ snapped Hilary. . ’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. But she does not resemble you in any other way.
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