Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose. The whole was then fired, and in a few minutes the room was a blaze. I wouldn’t recommend doing anything. She trembled; but she did not know why.
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