It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. 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. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her.
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