This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. A nurse was at the other end of the room. 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. “I hope that Mr. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone.
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