"Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. 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. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree.
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