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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. He filled his pipe slowly. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. . "Why do you laugh?" he asked. “As a matter of fact, I deserve to. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself.
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