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. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. Carefully sustaining the child which, even in that terrible extremity, he had not the heart to abandon, he fell upon his knees, and, guiding himself with his right hand, crept slowly on. ’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. ” Ann Veronica sat over her fire with her father’s note in her hand. “Will he live?” The doctor shook his head. Without hindrance—present occupation. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse.
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