Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Jack replied in the negative, and it required all his mastery over himself to prevent the satisfaction which this announcement afforded him from being noticed by the jailer. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. 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.
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