A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh. 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. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. He will say who it was. Tell Lucy about the time you were nine years old and blew up the house, John.
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