But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. 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.
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