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. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments.
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