Capes was married,” said Ann Veronica, resuming the conversation with an entire disappearance of her former lassitude. Father— dead. 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 servants had left the room. Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand.
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