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. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants.
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