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Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. 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 hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts.
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