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. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. Ann Veronica realized that she was alone with the world. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly.
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