The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. 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. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. ‘Come, cry a truce. If you ask me, you’ll have to beat her regularly if you don’t want to live a dog’s life. ” His eyes were closed. “Twenty-two. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary.
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