He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. She dare not risk it. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. ” Ann Veronica’s mind was filled with confused unutterable replies. 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. ‘Dear me. . Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. My very sentences stumble and give way.
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