She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. She entered the last room, his bedroom. ” “Then, by God!” he said, “you’ll be locked up!” Ann Veronica was disconcerted for a moment. 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. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. "Yale? Why, so am I. But she made no answer. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry.
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