"Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. 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. They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. When other kids got sick at school, they always had Moms who would rescue them within minutes. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write.
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