She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. Still, one never could tell. 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. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. Insulting cries became frequent and various, but for the most part she could not understand what was said.
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