Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. 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. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him.
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