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Abruptly would come the end. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. 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 struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything.
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