From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. Think of those days in Paris. 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. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. Pah! What a pig is this générale.
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