‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘The whole town is talking. If such a thing in connexion with him had been possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. She went to her own table and sat down. “I should like to understand you,” he said.
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