She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. 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. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street.
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