” There followed an instant’s pause, and then Ann Veronica had decided to misunderstand. There was—a service. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. ‘You think my father would not have married Suzanne if he had known? Me, I do not agree. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. They were terrible, horrible people. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. 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. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud.
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