. 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. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. ” She felt humiliated. The lad looked alarmed. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. Ennison. She is no longer mine; she is yours. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe.
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