But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t. I don’t believe in the faults. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. 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 I am your husband,” he said.
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