The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. Ladders, paviour's rams, sledge-hammers, and other destructive implements were procured, and, in all probability, their purpose would have been effected, but for the opportune arrival of a detachment of the guards, who dispersed them, not without some loss of life. Ann Veronica blushed. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. Ah, if I had written that!" "Don't you want to live?" "I don't know; I really don't know. 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. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things.
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