Cathy threw Mike a look. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. 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. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. .
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