As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. You have taken even my knife. 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. She was, she guessed, close to the library. .
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