Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. 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. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. “Who can tell?” she said. "Ruth?" he called. But to choose this of all moments. But Darrell averted his head.
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