" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. ‘I think you know my affianced husband. 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. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. I wanted the magic of love. “For no other reason than you talk too much.
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