Gerald looked at it, then at her face. 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. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab.
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