At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. And he liked her. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. It is like some accident.
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