Earles closed the piano with a little bang. 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. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney. ” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes.
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