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. “It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime.
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