The boy she had loved was gone. She longed to enjoy human food as he did. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. 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. She remembered Taber's hat.
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