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. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. Ann Veronica glanced at the mirror to discover a flushed and dishevelled disorder. That he received guests of the name of Valade at all would have surprised anyone who knew his history. .
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