He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. 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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