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. ’ ‘Well, don’t bite my head off,’ protested Mrs Sindlesham, clearly amused. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. ‘Ah, grandpére. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. He must have married when he was quite a young man.
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