“Cheveney!” she repeated. 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. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Directly dinner was over Mr. ‘Good. “I want to inquire,” said Ann Veronica. Decidedly this was imbecile.
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