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. Soho! boys. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. With this person—who was no other than Mr. “Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly.
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